Devils Will Cry: The Legend of Sparda
by Legendary Wordmasters
Summary: Fairly conservative account of Sparda's awakening and rebellion over roughly 2000 "years" based on the games and manga. Aims to stay in the bounds of canon as much as possible, while still being adventurous enough to be fun. Warning: May contain bathos.
1. Prologue

**Part 1 **_Rise of Mundus_

**Prologue**

The world was born from Darkness…..

Unending Darkness, a crucible of chaos…….

Evil reigned supreme in this wasteland of turmoil……

But even to that primordial existence there came a ray of Light.

The universe was eventually split into two. The Darkness became the realm of demons and the Light became the domain of humans. These two worlds existed for what seemed like an eternity….

Then one day, the Lord of the demon world, Mundus, decided that since the two worlds were once one, they shall be so again. However it was then that another demon arose in defense of humanity….

His name was Sparda….

* * *

But this is not how or when the story of Sparda or Mundus began. In order to delve into the origins of Sparda and Mundus, we must look into the rule of another demon, Argosax the Chaos.

His rule was unmatched, his will, unjust. In the depths of Hell, Argosax ruled over all demons while sitting on his throne of hypocrisy. His ruthless hordes scowled around in darkness living out an existence seemingly without meaning or purpose. Hell was a barren wasteland and a thick cloud of hatred and sorrow hung eminently throughout its darkest corners. It was in this place that Argosax ruled and in this place his word held enough weight to upset the balance of the cosmos. However he was not an ambitious ruler. He made the biggest mistake that any King could ever make, he became complacent.

Uninterested in doing anything else, Argosax was satisfied with his current reign and his legions of followers. But there were those who were not complacent; those who looked at the throne with envious eyes.

Unbeknownst to Argosax, Hell was buzzing with rumors of an overthrow. All demons who spoke of it said so ever so softly, knowing that the very thought of such things could mean their doom. However there were those who spoke boldly, those who did not fear the retribution for such treason but instead relished in the idea of its spoils.

In the darkest depths of Hell, they made their plans……

The piercing sounds of swords colliding could be heard off in the distance. A smoky red cloud filled this apparent battle ground in the center of a broken down coliseum-like structure. Several on-lookers surrounded this one man spectacle, their glowing eyes appearing like flickering candles in the darkness.

Many figures filled this battle ground, fighting and grunting, attempting to take down the lone figure that stood at the very center of this madness. The sword he held was almost larger than him with a very sharp blade covered by an organic material with a large, multifaceted gem in the middle of it. However this was not the only amazing thing about this creature. He bore two pairs of insect like wings on his back and had very large horns curving downward, contouring his armored shoulders.

This demon was beastly in appearance but yet seemed to stand out from the other, more menacing demons that surrounded him; some appeared similar to humanoid goats with their very flesh ripped off, others were even more beastly, appearing closer to mutilated animals than humans.

As the surrounding demons closed in and attacked, their cries and moans bellowed throughout as the winged demon slayed them all with ease. Blood, effluvium, and strange demonic fluids rained down on the battlefield, covering the demon from head to toe but he stood there as if nothing was occurring at all. Then, he spoke:

"Are you going to come back out or do I have to come get you?"

Then, from the shadows of one of the dark archways came a figure; massive in stature and size, this grayish demon resembled a mutated skeleton of sorts surrounded by an aura of blue and white smoke. He wielded a massive broadsword that seemed to shimmer in blue moonlight, even longer than the sword of the winged demon.

The winged demon seemed pleased with the reemergence of this sword wielding behemoth and stood ready for attack. Suddenly the larger demon made a charge and extended his sword forward, causing it to magically grow and length and size. Just as the sword is about to crash into the body of the winged demon, he cleverly side steps and thrust his sword upward hard, knocking the behemoths sword up into the air and leaving him open for attack. Faster than the eye could see, the winged demon had smashed the side of his blade hard into the chest of the monster, knocking him to the ground.

Suddenly two other demons emerged from the shadows appearing like barbaric warriors, one wielding a large spiked hammer, the other a huge sharp axe. They appeared to be ready to attack the winged demon but before they could make a move, the behemoth spoke:

"Freki, Geri stop!!"

The two beastly demons paused in their tracks and began to back away slowly. The winged demon stood over the monster in arrogance, the tip of his sword mere inches away from the monsters face and as he stood in victory, the large crowd of on-looking demons, stirred with many notions and conjecture

_I heard he is the best swordsman Hell has ever seen…_

_I heard he trained himself from birth…._

_He will make a great general one day…..  
_

As the spectacle began to die down, the on-lookers began to scurry away, going back to their dwellings in Hell. The battle was over and all its participants had left. However, the winged demon remained, appearing very focused as he whipped his sword around in circles very precisely, apparently practicing right after his effortless battle.

Then, from the crumbling stands came a figure. Standing slightly taller than the winged demon, this figure appeared to be a creature not fit for a place such as Hell; completely made of whitish grey stone, he wore a majestic long robe and his solid hair appeared to have been sculpted, curling around his strong jaw and stone face fitted with an extra eye in the center of his forehead.

He walked slowly and suspiciously towards the winged demon, almost as if he was acknowledging his abilities. As he came not ten feet away from the winged demon he was halted by the demons sword, extended right before his third eye. The winged demon peered into the eyes of the stone demon indicating that he had come too close and should quickly back off. Then a look of slight familiarity ran across the face of the winged demon and he spoke

"Mundus."

The other demon flashed a devilish grin and replied:

"So I see you've heard of me"

The winged demon did not reply but instead stared coldly into the other demons eyes and waited for him to say his piece.

"You are the one they call Sparda. It is said that you are a great swordsman and from what I have seen I must agree. Hell has not seen a swordsman of your caliber in centuries"

The demon made of stone appeared to be getting more comfortable as he began circling the winged demon at a slow pace, his hands clasps tightly behind his back.

"With your skill, you could prove most…persuasive in attracting a large following……."

As he says this, the winged demon brings up his sword in caution.

"Hmm. No need to be defensive, I am not your enemy. However there are those who may become jealous of your talents. Those who you despise"

The winged demon then let down his guard and planted his sword in the ground at his side. Then he spoke:

"What are you getting at?"

Apparently pleased with this reaction, the stone demon then said his piece:

"Under the shadow of tyranny there is not much that only one can do. However, if one's will is strong enough……."

The stone demon let his words trail off intentionally, hoping that the winged demon would begin to think. He continued:

"Some of us say and don't do but when I speak, _fiat voluntas mea_ (my will is done)…."

A grin was clear on his face as he now stood directly in front of the winged demon.

"Come, young Sparda, I have a proposition for you….."


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1** _It Begins_

"I speak, and my will is done…"

The words hung in Sparda's head, echoing. He and Mundus walked for what seemed like an eternity. Mundus, hands still clasped behind his back, and Sparda, his sword hung on his armor-like skin at the apex of his wings.

"And what _is_ your will?" Sparda asked, indicating is own suspicion. Mundus chuckles, his deep voice pouring from his stone face.

"Exactly that. I do as I please, when I please, despite our 'ruler'." The word 'ruler' is said with a tone that hints at sarcasm.

Sparda cringes at the thought of Hell's 'ruler', the Crawling Chaos, Argosax.

-----

Argosax reigns literally over Hell. Unlike a true King, he is indolent and self-satisfied. He sits on his throne and would grow fat if he had the body to do so. Argosax has no physical body to call his own; rather, he is composed of pure demonic energy, like the fuel to the fire. He knows all, yet his omniscience is wasted on inane aspirations. However there are times when he uses his demonic 'gifts' watch over Hell like a hawk stalking it's prey. He fears nothing yet this is not due to his physical prowess but instead his boundless arrogance. On his throne he keeps close watch of those who share his demonic pride…..

"Mundus… you believe you can forge your own destiny…you won't do anything I don't want you to…" His inflated words, spoken like a glutton, fade into the depths of the Underworld. No one hears them, yet the very sound of his voice is enough to send a tremor throughout Hell.

-----

Mundus sees Sparda recoil slightly at the thought of Argosax. "I see we share the same feelings…"

"Don't presume to know my intentions." Sparda retorts. His words are hollow, however; he does feel the same way.

"Child, you don't fear him, do you? He does nothing with his world, his power. Hell festers as he sits on a stagnant throne. You think he'll show himself if someone thinks differently than the masses he so blindly believes he controls? Not all here follow him…" Mundus pauses, allowing his words to sink into Sparda's thoughts.

"All that power…so unused…" Mundus continues.

"So wasted." Sparda interrupts. Mundus' three eyes in the shape of a triangle lower and he grins evilly. "Yes."

Sparda places his hands behind his head, stretching his arms. He lets out a sigh as his arms fall back to his sides.

"Rebellion." He murmurs.

"The brains and power of a god, and the strength to back it up… We could overthrow him… that power, placed in the right hands, could do so much." Mundus says enthusiastically.

"Intriguing…" Sparda says…

"Me? No I'm not. The thoughts, the feelings, were always there, weren't they?"

Sparda's tone becomes very serious. His mind was racing at thought of this new proposition. His young spirit and eagerness to be something more give him confidence and fear at the same time. Very early in his life, Sparda knew he was destined for greatness however he did not yet know how to achieve it. Now, with this new potential for transformation spread in front of him, his demonic blood pulsed with anxiety. He knew this was it. Something had to be done.

He looks up at Mundus not with disdain, but with a roguish and sinister look never before seen on his face, "When do we start?"

Mundus smiles, eyes crackling with red electricity, "Immediately."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**_ Reunion_

The words of Mundus resonated through Sparda's head as he walked down a clouded pathway in Hell:

_We will overthrow him…._

_I already have a following of my own, steadfast in their loyalty…._

_However it would become unstoppable with your sword…._

_You must gather __support__…._

_I'm sure it will not be difficult to instill the same hate you have into them…._

_With your abilities, you could be most persuasive…._

As he continued down the pathway, Sparda passed various hordes of demons, some gathered in small groups, others alone; all were basking in the pleasure and misery of their own existence.

Unlike humans, demons are proud to be what they are because of their sheer purity. Humans must justify their existence and look upon frivolous things such as beauty and money, forsaking their own purity as human beings. Demons are proud to be demons because they are just that, unadulterated in all their unrighteousness; a stark difference, and one that will eventually lead to the near doom of all human kind….

Sparda, a demon as well, was not very different from his peers; he too was prideful and just as arrogant as the next demon however he did not covet his own demonic power as other demons did. He did not know why this was……

The many demons stared and snarled at Sparda as he passed, some in envy of his apparent power, some acknowledging it as if they were proud that one of their own could attain such abilities. One demon, a female, looked on with lustful eyes. As Sparda walked along the path she approached him without fear:

"My you are a handsome devil"

This red haired, pallid demon was covered from her torso to her feet in live bats that seemed to make her float along the ground gracefully as she moved. Her eyes were deep and dark and as she spoke, vampiric fangs gleamed in the darkness. If it were not for her apparent demonic features she probably would look like a beautiful human woman. She circled around Sparda, brushing her hands across his back and shoulders but he remained stationary, not saying a word.

"So sugar, you seem to be in a hurry. No need to rush, I'll treat you nicely." Her words came out seductively and in an echo similar to that of a sirens song.

A slight smile ran across Sparda's face as he was clearly enjoying this demons attention to some extent.

"Thanks, but no" Sparda's words came out coldly and sternly.

"Mmmm, my you're sweet, but don't you want to be treated like a king? Like a god…." The demon ran her fingers across his rigid chest very gently but he suddenly grabbed her by the wrist and threw her down hard to the ground.

"No," Sparda doesn't even look at her and begins walking along the path again, the demonic vixen still lying on the ground.

Even in utter rejection the seductress taunts Sparda, "Oh you'll come back sugar….and you'll like it so much, you'll never wanna leave…" Her words fall on deaf ears as Sparda disappears into the red cloud of fog.

* * *

Violent screams and monstrous growls pulsed in the air as Sparda entered what appeared to be a wasteland; red slime and broken down structures littered the area. A crowd of demons were gathered around some kind of battle going on in the center. This was common in most parts of Hell; demons fighting each other to test their strength and clout and sometimes just for the experience itself.

Neatly packed pieces of land and rock made up what were apparently seats for observers. Sparda took a seat and focused in on the spectacle.

In the middle of the wasteland were three monstrous, gigantic demons battling it out; one was a huge spider-like creature covered in a hard gray shell under which flowed lava instead of blood. It had a tail like that of a scorpion which flung around wildly as it tried to pierce its opponents. The other was a large bird-like creature appearing like some kind of mutilated eagle whose head was segmented into four parts and whose wings spread out almost twenty feet. The third demon was gigantic but more human-like in its build than the others. It had two arms, two legs, and torso but that was the extent to which it mimicked a human. Its color was a palette of dark grays and browns, its legs, from its calves down to its feet, were more lizard-like than human with three toes, all equipped with thick black claws. Its forearms were lined with what seemed like radiant white light energy that pulsated involuntarily. Its head was similar to that of a bulldog, only with a thick horn right at the top of it, and glowing red eyes. It also apparently could sprout two pairs of small white feathered wings and had a tail the same consistency as its feet.

These three demons battled in the center of a very large circular platform, lined with sharp spokes curving inward through the bars of a black iron cage. The ground directly around the bottom of the platform had eroded, revealing a river of blood coursing around it. This almost made it appear as if the platform was floating.

The battle itself was fierce, each demon demonstrating its own unique abilities. The spider-like creature spewed balls of lava out of its mouth and leaped high into the air, trying to crush the flying demon. The aquiline demon flew around the arena and shot out waves of red lightning that temporarily stunned the other two demons. It quickly flew in to strike the spider-like demon but was blind-sided by the more muscular, horned demon. A bright burst of light filled the wasteland as he smashed the ground hard with is clawed fist, creating a powerful eruption that sent the spider flying through the bars of the cage, and disrupted the flight of the eagle-like demon. However, the flying demon quickly regained it composure and flew back in for another strike. Abruptly, it was halted as the horned demon grabbed it right out of the air. It was thrown, by both of its wings, through what remained of the cage and onto the blood red ground.

The horned demon roared and screamed to proclaim its victory, further humiliating its beaten opponents. Suddenly the platform lowered back down to ground level, the shattered cage crumbled into the river of blood, and the masses began to clear out; the spider and the eagle creature limped off in defeat. All that remained of the crowd was Sparda who just sat there, glaring at the horned demon without blinking.

As the monster stood on the platform, nursing its minor wounds, Sparda spoke, "So it seems you've grown slow over the years"

The demon looked up, trying to place where the voice was coming from and his eyes fell on Sparda. The look on his face turned from a grimace to a look of camaraderie as he began to slowly approach Sparda. In comparison, Sparda was much smaller in stature than the other demon, the top of his horns peaking just below the other's waist. The demon looked down at Sparda, who slowly flew upwards to look at the demon face-to-face.

The burly demon then spoke in a raspy, deep voice, "I see you've finally grown wings."

Sparda hovered in the air with his arms crossed and grinned. Suddenly the demon swiped at Sparda with his thick claws but Sparda quickly deflected his hand with his sword, chipping off the front of one of the demon's talons. Sparda re-fastened his sword to his back and crossed his arms again, smiling as if he had just passed a test.

"It has been a long time, Beowulf"

"Yes, yes it has. What has brought you back into these parts? If my memory serves me, I can remember you declaring yourself destined for greatness and leaving these wastelands in search of something more…"

"And that is exactly why I am here now. The dream is not dead, this is only the beginning….old friend" Sparda's hushed tones were rife with implications as he explained to Beowulf his treacherous intentions. Sharing the same feelings towards Argosax as Sparda, it did not take long to convince Beowulf to join the cause. And thus, the formation of a new army began…

* * *

The demon realm was not the only place where agents of change were setting in motion events that would change their world forever; the human realm also had its own movers and shakers, however they were not as benign in their intentions as one might think. A malevolent force flowed throughout a select few who began to lay out their devious plans….

The huts and small fires of the town blended in perfectly with the dark blue night sky. Its residents were clothed in ragged brown clothes and wore sandals made of wicker. Its marketplace stood open, fish dangling from awnings and fresh bread right below it. The faces of the people were happy, and even those who had just put in a hard days work managed to enjoy themselves. A quaint town, yes, but in its darkest corners, past the village and into the woods, this place would lose its innocence.

A group of hooded men and women sat around a fire as two more hooded men entered the light.

"What will we do?" one of the women said in a soft yet mischievous way.

"Yes, master, how will we end our unjust oppression?"

The hooded man remained standing and did not speak. He was holding onto a parchment that apparently had something on it. He threw it to the ground, allowing the others to see it. They looked on in confusion and shock.

"Wha-What is it?"

"I've never seen such a structure…"

The hooded man slowly began to talk, in a very low voice, "This will be the key to ending our oppression……the key to obtaining our deepest desires…."

Still confused, the others looked at him, waiting for further explanation but only one word came out, a name; a name that would strike terror into the heart of mankind for generations to come.

"Temen-ni-gru…."


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3** _Defiance_

As Sparda continued to gather forces to join the rebellious army, Mundus, on the other side of Hell, heard the words of Argosax in his mind, "Loyal Mundus, see me now…" Suddenly, bright blue lightning and orange flames surrounded Mundus who was thrown into a transport tunnel of sorts, being unwillingly brought before his master. As he was flung through the abyss, the only thought in Mundus' mind was that Argosax might know of the upcoming revolution. Unlike most of the demons, devils and oddities in Hell, however, he didn't care; not being one for cowardice, Mundus embraced this inevitable confrontation.

A large cloud of red energy hovered and swirled above a dark throne of skulls, and through the blue lightning came Mundus, falling to the ground.

He looked up at the enormous throne before him; the clouds seemed to bleed fire as Argosax materialized himself as a large creature with a corona of gigantic fiery wings and a faceless countenance adorned with horns. The fire flowed and ebbed as the body of Argosax the Chaos.

Mundus lowers himself to one knee as Argosax sits on his throne. _Indolent cur…_Mundus thinks…

Argosax gestures with his hand, opening his palm up towards Mundus, "Rise…" Mundus brings himself back up. "…..Servant," Argosax finishes his command as Mundus hides his contempt. Argosax sees Mundus' feelings, and uses them against him.

"You called for me." Mundus speaks in a dry tone, in the form of a statement, not a question. It was clear that Mundus was having a hard time holding his temper and arrogance, while at the same time Argosax was enjoying every second of it.

"Yes, I did. You are my most powerful and loyal servant, Mundus; an elite devil indeed…. That is why I've called you to me." Every time Mundus is called 'servant', he loses a little more control of himself but remains calm, playing his part.

"This throne, the throne of Hell, unlike the powerful kingdom it reigns over, is a delicate thing. So many of my servants wish for it…look upon it with lust and envy." Argosax trails off, "Ah, two of my favorite sins…"

"I'm sorry, I lost myself." Mundus grows tired of Argosax's babbling. "The power of this throne is diminishing. I can feel that there are some who wish to seize it from me, who believe that they, mere servants, have the power to do so."

Suddenly, he comes to a frightening realization; Mundus finally determines why he has been brought before Argosax. His eyes narrow slightly in concentration. _So_ _he does know_, Mundus thinks. He quickly regains his calm and decides to play along.

Mundus words come out slowly yet firmly as his pride gradually begins to get the best of him, "Yes. There are some that grow tired of servitude. They require something…something to shake them out of apathy. To give them meaning…"

Argosax smiles; Mundus has played right into his trap. "And what is that _something_…" Argosax leans down to Mundus allowing his final words to come out as naturally as a breath of air, "…SERVANT!" He screams into Mundus' stone face sending a tremor around his great throne. Mundus' eyebrows lower and he becomes serious, ignoring his role as the proverbial servant.

"That throne will be mine…" He says under his breath.

Argosax lunges downward and grabs Mundus tightly around his body and brings him up to his like a toy and screams, "What! Did you say something?"

Red lightning begins to pulse around Mundus and the hand of Argosax. Mundus grabs the hand that covers his body, and sends demonic electricity through his King, and Argosax releases him.

Large wings sprout from Mundus' back and glow with brilliant white light. He flies up to Argosax's throat and grabs him by the chin. In an act of ultimate defiance he turns and pulls Argosax off his throne of skulls, throwing his Master to the ground.

Standing on the flaming chest of Argosax, Mundus looks into his eyes, "This throne… will be MINE!" he roars, his deep voice echoing throughout the demon world itself.

Argosax smirks and raises his hand. Mundus turns his head just in time to see a beam of power blast him directly in the center of his body, sending him hundreds of yards away. He lands, skidding along the ground and comes to a stop. Shocked by the power of Argosax and his own fallacy, he looks down to inspect himself; a large gapping hole smolders on his chest and he grunts in agony. Feeling immense pain and sudden numbness, he slumps to the ground, unconscious.

Argosax gets back to an upright stance and glares at Mundus with disgust, "You might want to get that army, if that's what you want to call it, up and running soon, Servant! I would soon grow tired of having to dispose of each of you separately…"

* * *

Sparda walks through the lowest, darkest, coldest levels of Hell, his cloven-hooves crunching icy ground. Large pillars of black and blue ice stretch into the sky. Sparda walks steadily until he hears a rush of wind above him.

His head slowly turns upward and he reaches for the handle of his sword, still clasped to his back between his wings. He turns around in slow circles, searching and observing his cold surroundings lined with sparkling glaciers. Suddenly, the noise of breaking glass and ice brings Sparda back around, his arm outstretched, his giant sword still in his hand. A moment of silence gives Sparda the opportunity to activate the sword; with a burst of demonic energy, the sword's blade extends from the handle, doubling in length and transforming into a scythe-like weapon.

He turns to face a large, reptilian demon, covered in ice and armor, lifting itself up into the air; its legs stretched downward, its arms parallel to the ground. Its body transforms into shards of ice and flies toward Sparda. He easily dodges the attacking Frost, however, the rest of clan descending upon him is another story:

Entire hordes of Frosts attack Sparda, each completely covered in ice with razor sharp claws and a long C-shaped blade on their right arm, crowned with three sharp ice shards on their shoulders. Sparda is forced to counter-attack. The irony here is that they do not fight because they are enemies; rather, they are testing themselves. The incredible speed of the Frosts gives them a definite advantage yet the agility and near flawless defense of Sparda cancels it out. As one Frost tries to pierce Sparda with its blade, he counters by spinning his blade in a circular motion, knocking the Frost away but slightly covering his own blade with the ice of the Frosts near absolute zero temperature. The Frosts and Sparda block all incoming attacks, neither side doing damage to the other.

"Mi-hork, talak ma frot!" ("Cease!") Sparda hears the demon language echo off the pillars of ice. The language of demons is a universal one, however the different clans speak in different dialects.

"Stop, let me speak with him!" Sparda stands as the Frosts back away. Sparda lifts his head in the direction of the voice as a large Frost, the clan leader, jumps down. It lands in a crouching position, and raises its body. It stands slightly shorter than Sparda appearing almost identical to the other Frosts except with more defined shards and a longer blade.

"Outsider, why do you come to this place? This exiled land?" Sparda deactivates his sword, and places it on his back.

"My name is Sparda, and…" Sparda's words are cut off by the clan leader.

"I have heard tales of you, young warrior."

Sparda continues without missing a beat, "…and I have a proposition for you and your clan. Our current King banished you here, to this place, the farthest reaches of Hell, for your disloyalty to him. You cannot possibly enjoy it here, so this is my proposition: Come to the Blood Plain tomorrow if you wish to ever leave this place. Mundus will be waiting for you there."

"The Creator?" The clan leader says, revealing his persistent loyalty to his master.

"Yes, and so will I. Be there." Sparda words come out definitive and persuasive. He turns and continues on his journey.

The clan leader speaks before Sparda is out of sight, "You speak of treachery."

"No…..I speak of revolution"

* * *

Sparda makes his way even deeper into Hell's caverns, where light does not exist. The only light visible is that of Sparda's glowing red eyes. Loud shrieks coupled with dark whispers, flow throughout this place and suddenly thousands of glowing red eyes and purple mist begin to arise from the abyss, all peering at Sparda.

Sparda speaks into the darkness, "Shadows! I know that you have been exiled here by our craven ruler. He fears that your darkness would engulf him and extinguish him, but he does not yet know the ebon terror of the Shadow clan. Meet me at the Blood Plain tomorrow if you wish to leave this place and be free to roam Hell once again. Let this be known throughout the gloom of the Underworld." Sparda's voice becomes sterns as he says his last words, "You WILL be there."

As he turns, a muted growl erupts from the fading dusk and a presence seems to remove itself from the darkness leaving nothing but empty, silent, shadows.

The army of the Rebellion was almost complete…..


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4** _Dark Forces Collide_

The keep of Argosax was as enigmatic as his body. It did not stand as a solid structure but instead like a mirage that moved and swayed in a similar fashion to a reflection on the ocean. Inside, Argosax continued to watch over the ones who would seize his throne. In all his arrogance, he invited this coup with open arms. Just like any other demon, he relished the idea of a new experience, an opportunity for him to exercise his incredible power.

He gazed at the scene with satisfaction, however his attention had now turned to one demon in particular, Sparda. He had never really given Sparda much consideration, although he was aware of his exceptional abilities with a sword.

"So, you are the one who aids Mundus…..Impressive yet…ultimately futile. Your efforts will not be enough to stop me….."

* * *

The Blood Plains. This would be the stage for the greatest war Hell had seen in an eternity. At the moment, an unsettling calm streamed and flowed over the murky red sea of blood, creating a steady whisper which became less audible as it passed through the darkness. However, the ominous sounds of gathering demons began to arise as Sparda stood at the forefront, a general rallying his troops. Before he spoke, he wondered of the whereabouts of Mundus and why he was not at the Blood Plains as well:

"My fellow demons!!"

As Sparda spoke, the multitude of demons before him fell silent. Beowulf stood at his side with his arms crossed, appearing like some kind of monstrous bodyguard.

"Today is our day of vindication!! We shall break away from the confines of servitude and create an existence worthy of living!!"

The demons began to roar and beat their chests in rabid exhilaration as Sparda spoke. The energy surging throughout the crowd was electrifying and it only grew as Sparda's words became more intense.

"No longer will we abide by the tyrannical rule of Argosax! Hell is not fit for a complacent ruler such as he. The division amongst demons is becoming ever more apparent with each passing day……this should not BE!! So many demons have been exiled and banned from the mainlands. So many of YOU have been forced to live in isolation, eking out an existence that is without meaning or purpose! We are all devils…the power elite, and as such we must stand as one!!"

Sparda's rhetoric was riveting, his logic was undeniable. However, even as most of the demons were growing more and more confident, some demons began to question the rebellion; Mundus, the supposed composer of this revolt, was no where in sight. Dissent began to form gradually as Sparda continued:

"We will stand!!! We will FIGHT!!! And we will gain our freedom, a freedom long overdue, a freedom that has eluded us for millennia!! We shall suppress the rule of Argosax and stand united under a new rule, the rule of Mundus!!"

These final words sparked an uproar which made the very ground tremble. Unlike anything ever before seen in Hell, demons of all species stood together; Shadows stood side by side with the seven Hells, Abysses stood side by side with Frosts. The very scene was overwhelming as the army of the Rebellion stretched out as far as the eye could see.

Suddenly, a thunderous tumult arose from the distance and the pitch black sky turned a bright fiery orange. The ground shook violently and the din became louder and louder as if a stampede was approaching. Sparda and his army focused their eyes towards the sounds and just over the horizon; a host of demons could be seen charging towards them.

It was his army, the soldiers of Argosax. Made up of many strange types of demons, they numbered in the millions: Humanoid goat-like creatures with chiropteran flew high, and agile, ravenous simian-like demons charged on all fours leaving behind a trail of purple smoke, an extremely large demon resembling an orangutan took massive leaps and bounds as he charged, an enormous bull-like demon standing on two legs with flaming horns and a giant, smoldering warhammer charged with his head down, primed for attack. Several other demons, too many to mention, charged as well. Behind it all, watching with delight, dwelt the incredible mass of demonic energy that is Argosax.

As they came within one hundred yards from the army of the Rebellion, they halted in their tracks. Sparda looked at this overwhelming prospect with combination of shock and anger. _He knew….._ Sparda thinks. The army of the Rebellion stirred and groaned as more realized the true magnitude of this war. The army of Argosax stood over one million strong while the Rebellious army only numbered in the hundreds of thousands.

The rumbling had stopped, the crimson river grew calm and the wind lay still. Sparda did not look at Argosax' army but rather at Argosax himself and his eyes burned bright red. An implicit sense of satisfaction and bloodlust gleamed across Argosax' faceless countenance. Two armies, two leaders, there could only be one victor.

Then, without warning, Argosax spread his arms across the battlefield and let out an undulating roar. At that, his army began to charge again, this time without hesitation. Seeing this, Sparda's mind began to race but the only thought that remained in his mind was Mundus. _He has betrayed us……_he thought. Finally, realizing what was upon him, Sparda gained the spirit to speak:

Turning towards his army, Sparda yelled, "As you see, the cowardice of Argosax has caused him to attack without warning!!! He shows and no MERCY!! SO we too shall show no MERCY!! My brethren, my fellow warriors, now is the time for you to prove your worth!!" Suddenly, Sparda raised his sword high above his head then pointed it toward Argosax and let out a battle cry.

The Rebellious army mimicked his actions and began to charge. Both sides headed towards each other in a violent collision course. This was it; the battle for Hell had begun.

Sparda was the first to attack, transforming his sword into a scythe and throwing it like a sickle, quickly severed the heads of multiple demons and penetrated many more. Phantom, the large spider-like demon, and his many offspring spewed fireballs into the sky, which landed on the battlefield and set the demons of Argosax' army ablaze. Beowulf came head to head with Furiatarus, the bull-like demon and it created a violent shockwave as they collided. Using his wings, Beowulf was able to dodge the powerful swipes of Furiatarus' hammer but was not so fortunate as to escape the waves of fire from his mouth.

Growls, screams, explosions, and spewing blood constituted the atmosphere of the battlefield and throughout all of this, Argosax remained in the backdrop as an amused observer. In the midst of Hells battling the simian-like demons, and the Abyss' fighting Abyss Goats, two demons in particular stood out from the pack, almost as much as Sparda.

One of them was of a gray color with pupilless ether blue eyes and scaly wings. It wielded a long sword that was marked at the hilt with the wings of a bat and seemed to grow from the mouth of what resembled draconic devil. Using the power of electricity, it hovered above the crowds, sending violent lightning strikes down to the army of Argosax.

The other demon was extremely hulking and resembled a multi-horned, sienna colored rhino standing on two feet. Equipped with incredible flaming gauntlets, and fighting for the Rebellion, this demon rampaged through the battle using brute strength and hand to hand combat.

However, although it appeared that the army of the Rebellion was gaining the advantage, it quickly became clear that the army of Argosax might win because of the sheer, vast numbers of disposable combatants. With more than ten demons to any one insurgent, Argosax' army was overwhelming. The simian-like demons hounded and pounced on Sloths and Prides. Blood Goats and Abyss Goats floated high in the air, firing intense streams of magic at Frosts and Shadows. Giant two-headed demons, bound by chains and thick metal plates surrounded Phantom and attacked with huge maces, chained to their arms.

Although Sparda was having no trouble dispatching demons left and right, there were too many demons for him to aid all of his comrades. It was slowly becoming a massacre and the fact that Mundus was no where to be seen only hurt the rebellious spirit of the army. Sparda still fought enthusiastically but could not shake the thought of Mundus' apparent duplicity out of his mind. His anger and frustration at Mundus coupled with his hate of Argosax fueled him to fight even more fiercely. However, even his will began to wane under the pressure of Argosax' . As he continued to fight, he could see Argosax off in the distance, releasing more and more demons from his very body. Despair began to overtake him. All his hopes, all his dreams, were unmercifully being trampled upon. And he, as only one warrior, could not wrap his mind around possibly defeating such a force.

The defeat of the Rebellious army was imminent……


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5** _Return of a Demon Lord_

Violent shrieks and terrible cries were accentuated by the macabre sounds of spattering blood and bodies being cleaved to pieces. As they continued to spawn from his very body, Argosax' army was beginning to gain the advantage over the army of the Rebellion.

Sparda stood at the center of the massacre, fighting as fiercely as his will would allow. However, with the absence of Mundus and the steady erosion of the Rebellious army, this coup was rapidly appearing to have been in vain. Losing their resolve and their confidence, the Rebellious army fought less than half-heartedly as its fighters were easily crushed under the pressure of Argosax' dark legion. Some demons, such as the Frosts, were able to hold their ground using their swiftness and ice projectiles. But others, like the Hells and Arachnes were easily overcome and dismembered by the Msiras who worked in packs. After they had finished, they quickly moved on to their next victims to repeat the horrific process.

Beowulf and Furiataurus were locked in a heated battle, each matching the other blow for blow; as Furiataurus spewed waves of fire from his mouth, Beowulf countered with incredible beams of white light which only dissipated as they touched the searing fire. As Beowulf circled him, trying to keep a distance, Furiataurus swung his hammer cyclically above his head, creating a ring of fire around his feet and a hurricane-like firestorm that drew Beowulf inward towards the flames. However, Beowulf's unique agility allowed him to leap above the flames and knock the hammer from Furiataurus' cloven hooves, forcing him into hand-to-hand combat. Beowulf had a clear advantage and began pounding Furiataurus with a barrage of blinding punches. But, just when he gained the upper hand, Beowulf was blindsided by Orangguerra. The enormous, black maned ape demon wrestled him to the ground and began to hammer his heavy paws into Beowulf's body. Beowulf, a demon well respected for his great power, was now being overwrought by two lesser, but equally powerful demons, and even his steadfastness and vigor began to falter.

The same could almost be said about Sparda who now found himself face-to-face with Bolverk, the skeletal behemoth that he had fought in the coliseum. Although Bolverk fought for Argosax, he still maintained his sense of honor in engaging Sparda one on one. However, his comrades Freki and Geri were feral and unrestrained in their approach, something which Bolverk made no effort to discourage. When his comrades, Freki and Geri, charged towards Sparda, Bolverk joined them in the offense. The three converged on Sparda simultaneously, knocking him off balance slightly. Bolverk then stood back and allowed Freki and Geri to fight alone, only making a move when an opening presented itself. Freki and Geri were extremely swift and sporadic in their movements and when they attacked, they attacked head on and full bore, leaving behind a white spiral gust of wind. Sparda was able to counter most of their attacks but their coordination allowed for Bolverk to interrupt ever so often with his massive sword and slam into Sparda's body. Although it really did not hurt Sparda physically, the blows took a toll on him mentally, in that he took great pride in his stout defensive capabilities.

And as Sparda fought these three nemeses, he could see his fellow demons in the periphery being ravaged by Argosax' ruthless hordes, with unsettling caricatures of despair and agony displayed on their contorted faces. This Rebellion had now become a fight for survival……

* * *

Mundus lay smoldering on the cold floor of Argosax' keep, still unconscious. His chest was still smoking from the immense blow that had befallen him earlier. Very slowly he began to regain consciousness. Groans of pain and anguish slowly drifted from his motionless stone face.

As he began to gather his thoughts and struggle to his feet, Mundus remembered what had happened to him at the hands of Argosax and suddenly fear overwhelmed him. _How long have I been out?_ he thought. _The war…..the rebellion…..._ Mundus then began to grow angry, mulling over of the possibility that he was too late, that the war was over. But that thought was quickly abated as he heard the terrifying sounds of battle off in the distance. Suddenly, rage overcame him as his three eyes began to pulsate in intense crimson light and his marble skin began to crack as he clenched his fists.

"You should have killed me when you had the chance because you will not be granted another!" Mundus' monolithic body began to shake violently, like an earthquake tearing through ancient mountains. The Hellish stone shell of his body began to fall apart, leaving behind only Mundus' telltale triad of eyes. His gaze then fell upon the Throne; the red glow of his eyes became dim as his power literally ripped the Throne of Argosax apart, and rearranged it to form a larger, stronger, more powerful body for himself. But even after taking this new form, the blow from Argosax remained in the center of his chest, a wound at the very core of his being. "You shall witness the power of a true Dark Emperor!!"

* * *

The battle waged on for what seemed like an eternity and as the army of Argosax continued to multiply, some demons of the Rebellion began to flee, realizing that their impending doom was finally at hand. Sparda tried valiantly to convince his army to continue the exercise in futility.

"My brothers!! You must not flee! No matter where you go, Argosax will find you and destroy you!! You must face your fate head-on and defy it!!"

However, Sparda words did little to persuade the defectors. Some of those who fled did not want to face the wrath of Argosax and others surrendered because the supposed architect of this rebellion had seemingly betrayed them.

Sparda now found himself with less than half of his original force and it only continued to dwindle. The intense blaze of Argosax began to engulf the battlefield as even the strongest warriors of the Rebellion began to fall; Beowulf was being trampled into the earth by Furiataurus and Orangguerra, Shadows began to revert to their weaker forms, and Phantom was confined to the ground as he was repeatedly pounded by the maces of the giant two-headed demons.

Sparda continued to battle Bolverk, Freki and Geri and as he fought, Argosax spoke into his mind, taunting and provoking him:

"Foolish Sparda. You cannot defeat me, you know that. Why do you continue to fight? Give up. If you do, I promise your death will be clean and swift. You know you cannot win. Now, ACCEPT YOUR FATE!! DIE!!!"

Argosax then began to release even larger waves of demons from his body, only this time they were all surrounded by an aura of purple energy and seemed to be even fiercer. As Sparda fought, the words of Argosax hung in his head like a cancer. Although he tried to fight even harder, his own thoughts got the best of him and for the first time in his life, he began to question himself and his destiny. _This cannot be it…._ he thought. _I will not die this way_. But it was only a matter of time until he realized that this may in fact be his fate….

Suddenly, a thunderous crack drowned out the sounds of the battlefield and all the demons, including Sparda, ceased fighting. Just over the horizon, behind the Rebellious army, the silhouette of a winged figure could be seen and as it came into the light, the eyes of Sparda and the every demon on in the Blood Plains widened in disbelief.

It was Mundus, however, markedly different in his appearance; he was more than ten times his original size and his wings expanded more than one hundred feet wide. As he hoevered, his three red eyes peered into the face of Argosax and intense electricity surrounded his body. He then began to soar straight ahead and behind him, an incredible sight could be seen; hundreds of Hell Vangaurds, the highest ranking of the seven Hells charged at blinding speeds, Nevan, the vampiric seductress used lighting and bats to maneuver quickly and sharply, Griffon, the enormous eagle-like demon flew almost as high as Mundus as he charged, and Cerberus, the gigantic three-headed ice demon, shook the ground as he leaped. The demons that had fled from the Rebellion, turned back and charged, suddenly inspired by the appearance of their leader.

The battle was still suspended as Mundus flew to the Sparda's side. Sparda briefly shot Mundus a harsh look of criticism, but then seemed to display some sense of satisfaction..

"You're late" Sparda said sternly but almost lightheartedly.

"I had to tie up a few loose ends"

Sparda looked at the demons who had now joined the coup and smirked, "I see"

"Yes," Mundus looked around at the many fallen demons of the Rebellion, " and I see Argosax has been bringing the fight to our army…" Mundus' three eyes began to glow with red lightning as he refocused his sight at Argosax. "I think it's time we take the fight to him."

Mundus suddenly flew higher and launched himself straight towards Argosax. Sparda, with renewed confidence and burning desire for victory, looked back at his reassembled army but did not say a word. He held his sword above his head and began to fly upward, turning towards Argosax. A smile ran across his face as he dove right into the masses of Argosax army, fighting with even more forceful vigor than before. And not far behind him was the Rebellion, making another intense charge. Hope had been restored and the Rebellious army was ready to live up to their full potential and attack without hesitation or fear.

In the distance, Argosax' face, or lack thereof, read only disgust and anger. He had not predicted the Rebellion would persist in such a way. His army stood motionless, watching as the Rebellion charged them. The disgust welled up inside of him as he erupted:

"ATTACK!!"

Once again, the two sides charged each other, but this time something was different. The momentum was now on the side of the Rebellion. This was no longer a fight for survival. The true battle for Hell had now begun. Both sides, now at full force and fighting at their highest levels would determine the fate of Hell and its outcome would affect the world for more than two millennia….


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6** _Demonic Discord_

The tide of the war had turned. Demons from the Rebellious Army began working together, using each of their elementally based attacks in conjunction with each other; Nevan joined the charcoal-armored demon Alastor, sending a ferocious storm of lightning from the sky into the front lines of Argosax's army. The Hellhound Cerberus and gauntlet-wielding Ifrit worked together, using their respective powers of ice and fire to destroy the second wave of demons. Argosax' forces fell by the hundreds while the Rebellious Army only fell by a small fraction of that. And at the center of it all, was Sparda.

Nearly half of all the kills brought upon the Army of Argosax came from this one devil. Sparda's sword, less a weapon than an extension of his arm, worked in perfect harmony with his body. Unleashing vicious kicks and punches, he brought the sword up to cut through demonic armor as if it were nonexistent. Sparda held Argosax's troops back almost single-handedly, allowing his army, the Rebellion, to fight ahead into sea of opposing demons.

Behind his army, watching his hordes carry out his bidding, Argosax continued to unleash his legions. Deep in his self-righteous soul, he believed that he would prove victorious simply because he was the Ruler of Hell.

Mundus, now high above the battlefield, sent more of his followers down to even the odds. Thousands of Hell Vanguards, grim reapers powered by darkness, raised their scythes in unison as the solemn timbre of funeral bells silenced the cacophony of the raging battle. They teleported into the carnage amidst a wisp of black smoke. They used the Blood Plain's fluid consistency and rippling effect to their advantage; vanishing into thin air, the Vanguards attacked from below, bursting upwards through the hordes, cleaving demons in two. Mundus looked past the war, and straight into Argosax' featureless visage and all of his anguish and pent up rage exploded. With a burst of brilliant white light, his wings shot open and he hurled himself straight for Argosax.

Alighting mere feet from his hated King, Mundus blasted Argosax. Argosax, still solid from the energy expended spawning his hordes, stumbled backwards a few yards, then quickly gathered himself and sent a vindictive glare back at his once loyal servant. Mundus stood tall and his chest seemed to inflate as he walked towards his one true enemy.

"You will not survive this day, Argosax." Mundus' deep voice boomed with anger and arrogance. Argosax jumped backwards into the air, unfolding his halo of blazing wings and with one final burst of power, he let loose his own lieutenant: Noctpteran, the large moth-like demon.

"So, you actually believe you have what it takes to defeat me?!?!" Argosax stole one final look at Mundus and flew away from the battle.

Mundus' stone brow lowered, "COWARD!" and he gave chase. _It will end this day…_ he thought as he leapt high into the air with a burst of light.

-----

The war had dwindled down to nothing but a battle of mere guts and will, until Sparda saw Noctpteran; remembering past experiences, Sparda knew that this one demon, although not too powerful by itself, could unleash its voracious larvae into the battle at any point and turn the tides once again. He knew he didn't have time to warn the others. As Noctpteran flew towards the battle, which had now become focused in the center of the Blood Plains, Sparda launched himself into the air, trying in vain to keep ahead of the deadly moth-like demon.

Sparda looked behind him and saw the larvae eggs fall from the sky and plant themselves underground. He looked upward, trying to find the otherwise useless demon, but all he saw was a vague silhouette framed by falling ashes of gold. He then drew his attention back to the battle:

Hell Vanguards were being seized violently from below, disappearing into the ground and into the gaping maws of the ravenous worms. Several other Hells and Shadows were attacked from behind by the extremely large larvae, which burst from the ground and charged towards their prey. All throughout the battlefield, demons of the Rebellion were being unmercifully consumed whole by the gigantic vermin. Abyss' fought hard trying to use their projectiles to keep the larvae at bay but found that the larvae's own mindlessness made it almost invincible.

The newly revivified Rebellious army was now being eaten alive by a swarm of ferocious maggots, and as Sparda looked on, he became disgusted. His head lowered, _No…_he thought…_We're too close…It won't end like this…_Suddenly, his red eyes began to glow and an aura of crimson demonic energy surrounded in his thoughts, Sparda did not recognize a rounded wave moving rapidly towards him.A larva charged him, and popped up from the Blood Plains. Endless rows of teeth rushed toward Sparda, who was engulfed and swallowed. But things were not as they seemed. The larva began to emit a dull red luminescence and suddenly there was a flash of metal, gleaming in sanguine radiance. The larva fell into fourths, completely dismantled and dead. And Sparda stood amidst the bloody rain, silent and cold.

The Sword of Sparda began to emanate red fire and Sparda began to feel like there was a stone in his chest, something that he had never felt before. It was almost there was another, more powerful warrior inside of him ripping and clawing, trying to make its way to the surface. He stared at his sword, and raised his head to see Beowulf still engaged in battle with Furiataurus and Orangguerra. Sparda's face contorted from a mass of confusion to one of cold disdain as he flew over to assist his comrade.

Beowulf, taking blows from both sides, thinks he sees Sparda, but doesn't recognize his sword. It is only after Orangguerra is lifted high into the air by Sparda's sword does Beowulf realize that Sparda is not himself. Furiataurus stops in his tracks, just in time to see Orangguerra reach the zenith of his unwilling flight.

Sparda, now in the air with Orangguerra, teleported above him, and swung his sword down. Using his now tremendous strength, he sliced Orangguerra across his back, driving it into the ground. Sparda landed on its back, and dug his cloven feet into its flesh. Beowulf stared in disbelief, and then slowly turned his head to see Furiataurus approaching. Regaining lost strength, Beowulf spun around and grabbed the demon in a headlock. Furiataurus thrashed violently, trying to escape, but Beowulf used his free hand to beat Furiataurus' face in. He tossed him aside, and looked to Sparda. "COME ON!" he screamed as Orangguerra toppled to the ground. Sparda, on top of the giant ape's back, kicked off the ground with his right foot, sending him frenetically skidding across the sea of blood. Beowulf kneeled down on all fours, and followed Sparda into the battle.

With a flick of his wrist, Sparda transformed his sword into a spear. The fire emitting from the sword began to crawl up his arm and cover his body. Another gesture, and the sword became a scythe.

As Blood Goats and other demon fodder tried to attack, Sparda slashed all around him, turning the opposing demons into visions of falling statues. Legs stood without torsos, and body's stood without heads, while blood sprayed everywhere. Flashes of the blade were seen as Sparda tore through the battlefield, still on the back of Orangguerra. As he continued to ride the back of the ape, his eyes became set on Argosax.

-----

As Noctpteran let more larva fall, the Griffon's claw quickly put an end to the process. "Now, I'd have more fun fighting a giant lizard than a moth…" Griffon then proceeded to tear Noctpteran's wings off. The demon moth fell to the ground as Griffon sent an orb of red lighting through its body, killing it instantly.

-----

Argosax and Mundus were locked in a war of attrition, each using their powers against the other but to no avail: both were simply too strong.

Argosax raised his hand to form a large sword from it, and brought it down upon Mundus, who formed a shield of light to protect himself. Argosax leaped over Mundus and turned, swinging his large arm-sword. Mundus then countered, grabbing Argosax around the arm and twisting, breaking Argosax' concentration, causing the sword to melt back into an arm.

Suddenly, Argosax planted his foot on Mundus' chest and pushed, sending himself flying back. Mundus charged again, throwing a punch, but Argosax countered with another punch. The only contact made was one of each fist colliding with one another, clashing in a boom of power, fire, and light.

"You poor servant…you believe you can win, don't you?"

"Wrong …I know I WILL win!" Mundus charged his fist and blasted power from it causing Argosax to stumble back. He then brought his hands to his chest in a circular motion and Argosax looked up to see thousands of hellish meteors flying toward him. He tried to form a shield from both arms but it was too late; the meteors bombarded him.

Overall, they did little other than annoy him, but the whole of Argosax began to glow with fury, "Mundus!" he chuckled through his words, "You really do BELIEVE you will win! Give up now, servant, and I promise you a quick death. Continue with these silly pebbles, and it will be long and painful…"

"Nothing causes me more pain than seeing you still breathing." Again, they charged each other, each grabbing the other in an arm lock around their chests, their heads mere inches from one another. As Argosax groaned, Mundus spoke.

"If you had a face, I imagine that it would be twisted in puzzlement and despair. Deep inside, you know that even if you cannot win, I cannot lose. Either this will end in a stalemate, or you will lose. Do you hear me?"

"You trash!" Argosax tossed Mundus behind him, and formed a whip from his right arm, his back toward the ongoing rebellion. Mundus brooded solemnly as he saw Sparda quickly approaching,

Looking back into the blank face of Argosax, Mundus spoke, "Even then if this does end in a stalemate, I still have one thing you don't…"

As Mundus said this, Argosax retracted the whip to form his right arm again, "And what would that be? You are not speaking of that child Sparda, are you?" Sparda then came close enough to hear these words; "He's nothing more than a lowly whelp who only knows how to swing his twig of a sword."

Sparda jumped off Orangguerra now trampled body and lifted himself into the air, his sword, still in a scythe form, raised high. _Scum…_ Sparda thought.

"Nonsense!! What I have…" Mundus sends forth a beam of white light strong enough to blast a hole through Argosax' chest, "…is POWER! You…have nothing, not even your kingdom…"

Impacted by the incredible blow, Argosax fell to the ground, landing on his knees. He held his chest, trying to keep his power, his very life force, from bleeding onto the Plains. He turned to see what he hoped would be the Rebellious Army lying in ruins but instead, he saw Sparda, radiating a fierce red aura of flames, his face brimming with fury and anger.

As Sparda came closer, in a desperate attempt to live, Argosax raised his hand and began to absorb members of his own army as well as demons in the Rebellion to sustain his own life.

Sparda turned in mid-air to see this debacle. He then held out his armored hands rigidly, and unwittingly unleashed a fury of red orbs of fire, killing all who Argosax drew into his body, even those of Sparda's own Army. It was then that Mundus noticed something different about Sparda, something more…sinister…

Landing on the shoulder of Argosax, Sparda unsheathed his sword from his back and, in a violent spinning motion, sliced through Argosax' throat, causing his lifeblood to spew all over the field. As he lost more power, Argosax' now concrete physical body began to deteriorate and mutate into an incoherent blob of excrement, each remaining limb falling to the ground and evaporating.

As his physical body fell apart, Hell as a whole began to shake violently and a dark cloud of thunder and lighting ripped into the very fabric of space, creating a portal of sorts above Argosax, who was apparently trying to make an escape. As his gelatinous body floated there, he attempted to suck up more of his own army to repair himself. However, this time Sparda allowed it.

"You……you cannot….."

Demons like Bolverk, Furiataurus, Orangguerra, what remained of Noctpteran, Blood and Abyss Goats, members of the Rebellion, Puia, and several others were ferociously inhaled into the body of Argosax. The incoming demons did nothing but make his amorphous mass even larger.

Sparda observed Argosax in his weakened state and his red aura intensified. Nothing had ever made Sparda feel that way and his rage satisfied and terrified him at the same time. The fall of a tyrant was at hand.

As Argosax continued to fall apart, he made one final declaration displaying the epitome of his arrogance, "Mundus! You will not have my Throne!"

With one last look, Sparda charged towards Argosax with lightning speed, his sword at his side, leaving behind a red trail of demonic energy. As he took one horizontal slash at Argosax he made his own final declaration,

"DIE!!"

The screaming pile of sludge that was Argosax convulsed violently and was suddenly thrust backwards into his own portal, and sucked the surrounding demons of his army into it as well. As the portal closed an intense gust of wind exploded outward, creating an audible bang, which sent a ripple of demonic energy throughout every crevice of Hell.

On the battlefield, what remained of Argosax' forces stopped in mid-attack, and burst in flames. Nevan, Alastor, Cerberus, Ifrit, the Hells, Arachnes, Phantom, Griffon Shadows, Vanguards, Frosts, and the numerous other demons ceased in mid-attack as well, and watched this awe-inspiring defeat. Even in Hell, they had never seen such a display of fury and power as in the preceding battle. They trained their eyes on Mundus and Sparda, who now stood side-by-side, relishing their treacherous triumph.

A new age had dawned. The war was over. The Rebellion, now mundane. Hell stood as one...


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7** _Ray of Light_

Centuries had passed since the fall of Argosax, and with his defeat, Hell was remade in the image of Mundus. The far too clichéd Hell had been transformed into an elysian inferno that some would mistake for the Paradise that did not exist. Instead of screams of anguish, the Underworld was filled with the drone of a harmonious choir. But paradoxically, the rebuilt Underworld had become a fitting home for the Demon Clans.

Sparda had become a high-ranking general among the active troops of the Underworld, and still developed his sword mastery at every chance he was afforded. Everyday, his sword became more and more like a part of himself. Others had started to call it "The Sparda," named for its creator and one true master. It was during one of his "shadow practice" sessions that Sparda was approached by one of the most despicable and worthless creatures of the Underworld.

Sparda swung his sword around his body; during the swing, The Sparda became a scythe and returned to normal in one swift motion. He continued, bringing his sword from a downward position, raising it high and fast. A kick from his cloven-hoofed foot followed, then he thrust his sword forward, extending it with his mind alone.

The hapless creature crawled up to Sparda as he finished his frame. Looking down upon this poor, misshapen demon disgusted Sparda.

The demon was human-like in appearance and crawled on all fours. It had another arm with a large hand growing out of its back, and often hopped around like a toad. Stories of this clan of demon came from afar; its agility gave it an advantage in battle that most, even the most powerful demons, have trouble keeping up with. Unfortunately, it was also known for being completely obstinate and aggravating. And its insane cackling didn't help either. Able to contort its body and grow in size, it became known as…the Nobody.

The Nobody hopped around in place, clapping its large hands and snickering while it spoke to Sparda.

"_Hee hoo hoo!_ Sparda! _Hee hee_! Mundus commands your presence. _Ha ha hoo_!" It landed and became stationary, watching Sparda, waiting for a reply. Sparda continued to throw punches and kicks, using his massive sword as a physical buffer.

The Nobody spoke again, "Great Sparda! _Hee ha hoo_! Mundus wants to speak with you!" It hopped around like an insect. Sparda ignored it. The Nobody, well-known for being a particularly dull clan, came closer to Sparda, too close for comfort.

"Did you hear me! _Ha ha ha ha…_" Its detestable laughter was cut off by the thrust of Sparda's sword through its face. A quick slash upwards and the Nobody fell to the floor. Its acidic blood began to dissolve its body as Sparda stepped over the corpse and headed for Mundus.

--------------

As Sparda walked through the Blood Plains, he noticed the difference from the war. Large stone statues of every demon that fell that day, an eternity ago, covered it. It was aptly renamed "The Room of Fallen Ones" as an homage to those that died for Mundus. As Sparda entered Mundus' pristine white fortress, he saw some familiar faces. Beowulf stood there, with Nevan, the electric seductress, and Cerberus as well, the ice-imbued Hellhound. These three demons stood in front of hundreds of demonic legions. Sparda assumed his position alongside the other generals and sighed in irritation as Mundus appeared.

His three plasmic eyes were the only objects visible, hovering high above the highest-ranking demons in the Underworld. The orbs seemed to focus on Sparda, and Mundus' voice boomed from a vast, unseen body.

"I have summoned all of you here for a reason…" Mundus' voice trailed off, piquing the interest of the four devils.

"Long ago, in my youth, I was told of the genesis of the world. Innumerable eons ago, the world as we know it today was the _only_ world. Born from darkness, this one world, an entire universe, split in two."

The attention Mundus wanted was now his. Sparda seemed to lean his head towards Mundus, listening and thinking.

"A ray of light……." Mundus paused, seeming to recollect events of his past "A ray of light created the other……the human realm…"

The utterance of the word "human" caused each of the four devils to cringe with disgust. In the demon world, although most had never seen one, humans were viewed as weaklings unworthy of their own existence, so much so that most demons had forgotten about them entirely. However Mundus was not one of them.

"A human world, a demon world, existing together in disharmony for an eternity……..These realms were once united, so why not rule them as one?"

"But Master, Mundus…" Beowulf spoke cautiously, "This world seems to be a place not worth the effort. What little reward it would be, to conquer. Why do you want to –"

"You shall not question my WILL!!"

"Master…" Nevan spoke, "Why hasn't this been tried before? By Argosa-"

Suddenly, Mundus forced Nevan to the ground with a burst of red lightning, "DO NOT EVER SPEAK THAT NAME AGAIN!! That empty fraud did not know what power was at his fingertips. I toiled under his very nose, finding a way to unite the worlds once again"

"But how…" Sparda said, "If these worlds are now separate, how will we reach the human world? Many demons of our caliber and higher have tried before to break through, yet all have failed. Only those shapeless spirits that haunt Hell's darkest corners have ever managed to slip through."

Mundus' low laughter rumbled throughout the room, "And that is precisely it. Our former 'ruler' did not realize the advantages of demonic spirits crossing over. However, I did. I utilized those very spirits to influence humans to do MY bidding. The Darkness has already spread its tendrils across their realm. There is only one step left…"

"And what would that be?"

* * *

The Human World cried and screamed in agony and terror. Despicable acts were being carried out by humans obsessed by evil.

People in long black robes throughout the world were slaughtering entire villages; men and women alike were tortured, children killed. The blood-soaked ground hissed under the burning embers of blazing houses and smoldering corpses. And at the center of it all, rising high above the chaos, was one tower…

Temen-Ni-Gru – Its very name now sent fear into the heart of all mankind. One man's dream of evil was almost consummate. The Architect of the Temen-Ni-Gru stood at its apex. Next to him lay his daughter, sobbing frightfully, staring into the blank eyes of her dead mother. The Designer had used his own wife's blood to activate the tower. His daughter looked up at him in disgust and terror as huge church bells, desecrated with blackened skeletal angels, dropped from their yokes.

The Architect raised his arms and removed his black hood. The sky boomed with thunder and red lightning. Through the blood-curdling screams of humanity, he spoke:

"He plucks the threads that make us dance, finger and toe…"


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8** _Activation_

The world was born from Darkness…..

Unending Darkness, a crucible of chaos…….

But even to that primordial existence there came a ray of light

The universe was eventually split into two. The darkness became the realm of demons and the light became the domain of mortals. These two worlds existed for what seemed like an eternity….

Then one day, the Lord of the demon world, Mundus, decided that since the two worlds were once one, they shall be so again

From that era forward, the dark fought to control the light, and the light struggled to defy the dark

But the nature of man is weak and fragile. There was no way they could hope to oppose the demonic powers of those from the world of shadows.

Light was overwhelmed by the impenetrable Darkness, and humanity prepared to meet its end.

And then **He** appeared…..

This is **His **story. This is his Legend…

* * *

An era of fear. There was once a time when the light was able to suppress the darkness, however, it could not hope now to fight the unseen for long. Those humans who were weak in virtue and filled with doubt were manipulated by those formless beings of the Underworld. During the darkest hours of the night, those evil spirits crawled and flowed throughout of the homes of unsuspecting humans, subduing their minds with their twisted machinations. And in the darkness, while the children slept and the night lay still, those humans erected the ziggurat of sin.

Temen-Ni-Gru……….

The building, more than five times larger than any structure ever seen by man, towered over not only the small town, but, some said, its apex overlooked the entire world. Thick solid stone and marble had formed its amazing architecture. Lining its entire surface was a series of slender archways which, from a distance, looked like the faces of tortured souls trapped in an eternal prison. Bright phosphorous lights incased in the mouths of gargoyle statues on its offshoots made the edifice itself come alive. And at its highest point, led to by an ascending spiral path, was a circular platform surrounded by sacrilegious effigies to nameless gods. It took almost a millennium to build. Centuries of deception and manipulation passed as the humans built the very monument that would become the instrument of their destruction.

After its completion, the skies had grown darker and more humans became possessed by and drawn to its foreboding majesty. The base of the Temen-ni-Gru pulsed with a dark aura as hundreds of men and women, clad in dark, hooded robes, began to swarm up the walls of the massive tower with their bare hands. Contorting their bodies into blasphemous mockeries of the human form, they hauled their bodies thousands of feet to the apex of the tower. Their hands and feet bled profusely, creating streaks of dark paint along the rough stone of the tower. Their will to fulfill their evil desires, alone, kept them from turning back.

Humans, consumed by the lust for darkness, wrought havoc throughout the surrounding villages where the Temen-ni-Gru rose high into the night. The markets where fresh fish were hung and carpets were knitted were set ablaze. Weaker demon spirits, those able to slither through the boundaries of the two worlds, consumed the minds and bodies of humans, further adding to the ever-growing chaos.

For miles, flames danced wildly on the ground, crawling up the sides of small huts, consuming those humans unable to escape its fury. Cries of women being raped and watching their children being burned alive overlapped the yelps of men, unwilling to follow the darkness, being tortured and killed.

Deep within the foundations of the tower, possessed humans, mutilated and scarred by demonic energy coursing through their veins, dragged innocents into the fortress. Both those possessed by evil spirits and those wishing for their dark hopes to come true danced ecstatically, trampling through the blood and entrails of both men and women. Some used the bones pulled from dead humans to beat along the walls monotonously, providing an ominous ambience for the atrocities being committed.

However, through all this chaos and madness, an even more menacing ritual was being conducted near the apex of the tower….

A man stood in the center of an expansive lair lined with dark winged statues in the middle of which was circular platform filled with geometric lines, that pulsed with bright light. His dark robe hung past his feet and was gently being tugged upon by a woman, whose eyes only read terror. Ten other cloaked individuals stood inside the lair, two of which were holding down a screaming girl who violently tried to break away from their grip.

The woman that lay at the feet of the cloaked man spoke, as the light gleaned off the tip of the long dagger in his right hand,

"Please, no, don't do this!! I-I loved you, how could you do this to our family!!! To our daughter!!!"

The woman's words seemed to at least strike a minor chord in the man as his dark eyes moved under his black hood and he peered into the eyes of the girl, his daughter. She looked back into his eyes, and began to tremble.

"Father, No!"

The man, The Architect of the Temen-ni-Gru, did not say a word and looked down upon the woman, his beloved wife. His expression was that of a soulless husk. All signs of human emotion seemed to have left his body and all that was left was a cold dark shell of a being. Echoes of the violent acts occurring outside the gigantic doors of the Lair could be heard from within. The Architect began to speak to the woman,

"I need you."

At first the woman thought those words to be benign but quickly realized the cynical overtones in her former husband's voice.

"You are pure, untouched by the malice of this wasteland. This tower cannot be completed without you….."

Suddenly, he raised the dagger above his head with both hands and stood, poised to make a fatal blow. The woman let out a horrible scream just before the dagger planted itself deep into her abdomen. The man fell to one knee, driving the dagger even deeper into the belly of the woman as his eyes began to glow a sinister red.

Seeing her mother stabbed right in front of her eyes, the girl fought to escape from the grasp of her captors.

Her eyes flowing with tears, she screamed at her father, "WHY!!!! WHY!!!"

Ignoring his daughter's screams, the man slowly pulled the now blood soaked dagger out of his wife and raised it over a circular opening in the middle of the platform. As the life began to slowly leave the woman, she looked over at her daughter and tried to say something.

"_…_R-run …" But her final words were lost as the daughter continued to cry.

Her captors released her and she fell to the ground, exhausted from the tears and traumatized by the events of the day. She uncurled from a fetal position and slowly lifted her head to stare into the eyes of her dead mother; murdered at the hands of her own father, all for her lifeblood, the final key in the Temen-ni-Gru's activation.

Her father let the blood run off the dagger and into the circular crevice. The blood slowly combined with the demonic fluids in the crevice and the entire platform began to glow bright red. Suddenly, thunderous booms filled the tower and the very structure began to shake.

Outside the tower, people stopped in their tracks and gazed upon the spire as it began to twist and rise upwards, small pieces of its plated walls falling to the ground.

Inside the Lair of Judgment, the large platform started to shake and rise upwards. Some of the cloaked figures struggled to maintain their balance while the Architect stood steadfast and peered upward at the ceiling which was now opening, revealing the rest of the inner workings of the high reaching tower.

As the platform reached the apex of the tower it came to a sudden halt. The rain beat upon the platform creating a steady rhythm that sent chills down the spines of observers. Seven giant bells surrounding the platform hung from their yokes by large chains. Decorated in skeletons pulled from the living victims and stone demon wings, the bells fell into their positions. Deep grinding noises echoed throughout the sky as the chains tightened and pulled the bells upward.

The man, the Architect of the Temen-ni-Gru, raised his head, his hood falling to his back as he looked up into the sky. Dark, brooding clouds began to swirl high in the sky, the center point directly above the platform.

A sanguine aurora descended and enveloped the tower as those formless demons began to come into the Light and swirl around the zenith of iniquity . Through her sobs, the girl heard her father's deep voice,

"He plucks the threads that make us dance, finger and toe.  
We surrender, in joy, the lowest of the foul and rank.  
We submerge through darkness, rancid filth, and claw through living Earth.  
Hour by hour, we move downward, ever closer to Hell, in a slow…..steady…. gait.  
Now…let the world resonate…"

"Sloth…"

The bell to his far left began slowly swinging.

"Gluttony…"

The bell to his far right swung.

"Greed…"

The bells begin to swing, one by one, with each Deadly Sin, switching back and forth, left and right, making their way toward the middle.

"Envy…"  
The Architect began to speak louder, almost screaming.

"Lust…  
Wrath…  
And…PRIDE!"

The bells began to swing in full force, pulsing with a deep timbre. Through the ever-growing intensity of the swirling clouds, a faint knell was heard by all. The Architect gazed at the bells with an evil grimace,

"The bell of chaos that tolls human desires… the Once Great World, separated for over a millennia shall be whole again…"

The clouds churned with ferocious intensity. Red lightning crackled across the sky and scampered down the walls of the Temen-ni-Gru. Winds whipped through the sky. The Architect's robe danced around his body as he finished his incantation.

"Destruction! Carnage and Despair! Let your instincts drive you!" With a deafening clap of thunder and blinding flash of red lightning, a beam of energy discharged from center of the swirling clouds down to the tower.

"Entrap this world in fear! As its very name Temen-ni-Gru strikes terror into the heart of mankind. And I……shall become more than just a man. The Devil Gods shall grant me the demonic power I have longed for…"

"And the Demons, once broken and torn away from this world….shall return again and encompass the Universe in utter DARKNESS!!!"

His words bled out through his insane laughter, laughter of a mortal peering into the face of terrible power.

The beam expanded in the sky, opening the portal. An orange halo of light opened in the dark sky, like a window looking into the world of demons.

The jaws to the heart of Darkness were opening….

* * *

The Demon World shook violently, as if colliding with the Human World. Sparda and the other generals tried to hold their footing as they stood inside Mundus' pristine white hall.

"Ah…I see the humans have activated it…"

"IT?! Whatever this "it" is, it's destroying…" Sparda's almost anxious comment is cut off by Mundus.

"It is not destroying. It is creating the Once Great World over which I will reign supreme….."

In one of the most remote corners of the Underworld, the red beam of energy coming from the Temen-ni-Gru burst through the demonic stone ground. The red energy mixed with the white light of the Demon World, giving off on orange glow visible throughout its vast landscape. A thick gust of wind swirled and filled the Underworld, scattering pieces of rock and debris everywhere. Every demon ceased in their activity and pondered the new ambivalent ambience overtaking them.

Over time, the trembling died down to mere rumbles and slowly faded away. The door to the demon world lay open and a hollow whistle now flowed steadily from the portal throughout the Demon World.

"Is it over, Master?" Griffon pondered aloud.

"Yes….. the portal has been opened…"

"What do we do now?" asked Cerberus

Mundus paused for a second then glanced at Sparda. Sparda did not look at Mundus but instead fixed his gaze in the direction of the steady trembling. He did not seem very pleased with what had just transpired, however he kept his feelings to himself.

Mundus then looked over the rest of his generals and grinned as his three eyes smoldered with red flame. "Now…..we unleash Hell…."

* * *

The booming thunder had stopped and the heavy rain came to a slow drizzle in the human world. Atop the Temen-ni-Gru the Architect held up his hands as if awaiting a gift of some kind to fall into them. Everything lay still and a chilling calm flowed over the surface of the tower. The only sound was the hollow wind swirling around the gaping portal.

The Architect stood very still and smiled but the other cloaked figures around him looked at each other in puzzlement and confusion. Even those conducting the violent acts below had ceased in their maliciousness to bear witness to the dark clouds that now surrounded the tower.

The calm held for what seemed like an eternity. Then suddenly, the portal to the demon world began to pulse again and white light began to emanate from the darkness. The eyes of The Architect burned a bright red as a hideous shriek belted from within the portal and a swarm of devilish birds soaked in blood escaped its maw.

These devilish Bloodgoyles descended upon the humans at the top of the Temen-ni-Gru and below without mercy. The first blow fell upon a man fleeing trying to save his wife. He was literally snatched up into the air and ripped to shreds by a number of these creatures. Hundreds more seized humans and carried them back into the demon realm to unleash unspeakable torture.

The surrounding humans and some of the cloaked figures began to scatter in fear but the Architect remained as chaos enveloped the tower. His daughter trembled on the ground in so much fear that she was unable to scream.

"YES!!!!! Bring your WRATH DOWN UPON THIS WORLD!!!!!"

Suddenly, his daughter was attacked by a Goyle and carried off the Temen-ni-Gru into the night. Her faint screams could be heard as she fell out of sight.

The portal shook violently as multitudes of Bloodgoyles broke through and behind them suddenly came the seven Hells, this time different in their form; they no longer had their menacing demonic prescience seen in hell but instead a more tangible and material façade constructed of sand.

The portal became wider and suddenly demons began to appear from the very atmosphere. Hells materialized from thin air, wielding scythes and sharp blades, piercing the bodies of weak humans.

And atop all this madness stood The Architect, now covered in the blood of his dead wife.

"At last…..CHAOS!!!"


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9** _Rising Darkness_

The Architect stood ready as a multitude of various demons came rushing through the portal. Fierce winds thrashed about the Temen-ni-Gru, hurling humans off its edges to their doom. The ten other cloaked men present, the "Inner Circle," latched on to the black bells surrounding the apex of the Tower and cried to The Architect,

"M-master!!! Master Dormin!! What's happening?!?! You didn't say it would be like this?!? The-the spirits!! They weren't supposed to attack US?!?!"

The Architect kept a fixed gaze on the ever growing portal and the words spewed out of his mouth as if mind were absent from body,

"He will come...the Prince of Chaos...he will do as he sees fit with us…..he will grant me power……he will expel me from this flesh-ridden prison to become something more…..something-I…..I can…" his language became choppy and near incoherent as he continued, "I can feel…. presence…he draws near…absolute power…..drowning….drowning in chaos….absolute...power….chaos…..darkness…."

The lightning became more intense and began to strike the Tower itself, cracking several parts of its structure. Five members of the "Inner Circle" fled, leaving their apparently psychotic Master behind. Suddenly a terrifying screech boomed from the portal opening and the out flowing demons ceased. Silence settled around the Tower as the Architect stood in wait.

Then, without warning, a burst of cobalt smoke appeared in front of the portal and out came an incredible demon which resembled a gigantic Clydesdale the color of dark sapphire. Azure fire poured out of its eyes and mouth. Even its mane and tail were made of blue flames. A large spiked chariot was pulled behind him, on top of which was a dark rider with clawed hands, a flowing tattered cape and a hollow, pale blue eyes. He whipped the horse, driving it forward.

The Architect's eyes widened as the horse and rider came closer. Suddenly, the dark rider raised his clawed fist and the entire Temen-ni-Gru was muted in a storm of frozen fire. As time dilated, the motion of demons and humans alike was annulled, save for the dark rider and his wicked steed. He unleashed a series of blood red orbs on and around the Tower. As three of the remaining cloaked figures touched them, long gray spears mysteriously appeared all around them, impaling their limbs and faces. The Architect, alone now, remained standing at the top of the Tower.

The dark rider leaped from atop the chariot toward the Architect and then disappeared. The Architect's body went limp and he suddenly began to move like a marionette, slave to threads being unmercifully plucked, finger and toe. He convulsed while the dark rider flowed in and out of his body, as if trying to rip his very soul from his chest. The dark rider entered the Architect's body one last time and did not come back out. The Architect's body began to convulse again, and he let out a scream of agony as black demonic energy discharged from his eyes and mouth. As the energy flow ceased, the Architect uttered one last thing, ever so faintly,

"Anna….."

After the screams stopped, the remaining "Inner Circle" slowly approached the Architect whose nostrils and mouth crackled with black smoke. His face was now slightly deformed and mutilated as an eerie demonic energy seemed to pulsate beneath his skin. One of the Circle members addressed him,

"Master Dormin, are you alright?"

The Architect did not respond but instead mounted the gigantic horse. His hands then became black and clawed and he dug them deep into the neck of the horse to maintain his balance.

"M-master?"

The Architect's voice came out raspy and homophonic as if multiple voices were speaking in unison, "Meet me in the lower levels of the Tower. We must cleanse this world before his coming." The Architect and the horse then disappeared in a cloud of blue smoke, leaving the befuddled "Inner Circle" behind.

The town stood still as the demons began flowing through the portal again. The fall of mortals had begun…….

* * *

And two long years would pass…….

Shortly after the opening of the portal, various demons were "appointed" to different sections within the Temen-ni-Gru's infrastructure. Cerberus, with his three heads, was chosen to guard the front entrance of the fortress and attack those who approached without prior notice. Beowulf, because of his grisly and gruesome demeanor, was appointed to the underground prison beneath the Tower which became a terrifying torture chamber. The undeniable succubus Nevan was appointed to the caves under the flowing waterfall, where she would take human captives and seduce them before allowing her ravenous bats to feed on their lifeblood. Phantom was appointed head of the Arachnid nest and moved throughout the Tower as he pleased. An enormous demon, resembling a whale floated cyclically around the fortress and occasionally "fed" on the town itself, attacking the traveling mariners and their ships numerous times.

Over time, most of the humans who opted not to fight the demons, or join them, fled to neighboring towns to hide in caves and catacombs. Those unable to flee remained in their homes for as long as possible, until their souls were claimed by a figure known only as "The Reaper."

However, all was not lost, there were those who chose to oppose the demons. They came to be known as the Resistance. They stood up to the demons, relying on guerilla warfare and mobilizing large forces to rout the invaders. There were many skirmishes where the Resistance mobilized their forces to attack the Temen-ni-Gru head-on. Several thousand humans went in, sword and shield in hand, but few ever returned to tell of their defeat. Others stood back, manning the catapults with incendiary missiles, but the Bloodgoyles and Leviathan prevented them from ever hitting the fortress. Needless to say, the Resistance made little progress in reaching the upper levels of the Tower.

Thus, over time, the Resistance attempted less and less to penetrate the Tower and more to hold their ground against any further decay of the human realm. A suicidal strategy indeed but it did seem to work well enough to catch the attention of the Demon King Mundus.

Sitting on his throne, he watched as his minions were consistently put down by the human Resistance and the battles devolved into a war of attrition. Summoning all of his generals before him, Mundus decided to take action,

"As you know the human resistance has defeated yet another of wave of my legions. Their foolish hope and will to live has made their forces nigh impenetrable. They have become a nuisance. They must be put down. Sparda, from now until the fall of humanity, you will be in charge of crushing their spirits and eliminating their resistance. Do not hesitate, kill all those that stand against my will."

And with that order, Sparda called upon his comrade Beowulf and several other lower class demons. Descending from the Underworld, Sparda and his soldiers prepared to slaughter every human in sight.

The first human to fall before Sparda's sword was an innocent man, not even part of the Resistance. Beowulf charged through the town, smashing several huts with his bare hands. Suddenly, humans began to rise from underground catacombs and reveal themselves on rooftops, wielding bows and arrows. They were a small sect of the Resistance prepared to defend this part of the town.

There were five hundred of them in total and they greatly outnumbered Sparda's small squad. However, not even this was not enough. The humans on rooftops shot their arrows and the humans on the ground attacked with spears and swords but they only managed to kill a few demons. Sparda stood in the middle of all this and looked around as if studying the way the humans fought and moved. Until today, Sparda had never seen a human before, and he was surprised that they had been able to provide any resistance at all. _So slow….so unskilled,_ he thought.

Suddenly, a man, actually larger than Sparda, clad in black armor and wielding a mace, attacked without warning. The mace crashed into Sparda's body but did nothing. The man swung the mace again but this time Sparda blocked it with his forearm, knocking the man off balance. Before the man even knew what was happening, he was under Sparda's blade. Sparda sliced off the man's mace wielding arm and stabbed him through the chest, only once.

The humans fell left and right as the preternatural power of the demons overwhelmed them. Sparda hovered around the battle, allowing the lesser demons to ravage the humans, and attacked only those who showed at least minimal skill at sword play. The battle lasted mere minutes, and even then, this was only because Sparda toyed with his adversaries before putting them down. Almost all the men were slain, and though some had fled, their cowardice would be "accounted for" in later sweeps of the area. Only one man, who lay on the ground weaponless, remained. He spoke in a trembling voice that belied the courage of his words:

"You cannot break us. Others will take our places. We will never give up."

Sparda slowly approached the man until he stood directly above him.

"You. You are evil. We will eradicate your kind from this world. The Darkness cannot overcome the Light."

Sparda looked at the man in a peculiar manner and then sheathed his sword between his wings. He picked the man up by his throat and pulled him in closely to gaze into his eyes, as if he were inspecting his very soul for some defect or deformity. His expression was initially one of curiosity but it changed to disgust in an instant. Then, without a word, his grip tightened on the man's neck and then there was a sudden snap. He dropped the limp body, and looked back towards Beowulf.

"Go back to Lord Mundus. Tell him that the first wave has been destroyed."


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10** _A Demon's Mercy_

_2 years ago during the portal opening:_

The Bloodgoyle snatched Anna off the top of the Temen-ni-Gru. The Architect was so consumed by the opening of the portal that he did not notice nor would he have cared that his daughter was now lost to him. The Goyle sought to take Anna back to the Underworld but by a stroke of luck, it was unintentionally blindsided by another flying demon and Anna fell from the sky, her tattered dress catching on a broken offshoot of a building, saving her life.

"Here! Take my hand!"

Anna looked up to see a bearded man extending his hand. She was full of fear and still in shock from the fall but she still had enough sense to take his hand. As Anna slouched down to the ground, crying, as the man spoke again:

"We must get underground. They will not stop."

Anna ignored the man and continued to weep. As he attempted to console her, she backed away.

"It's alright, child. You need not be afraid. My name is Abel, what is yours?"

Hearing the kindness in the man voice, she responded somewhat distantly, "…Anna…And I am no child." Anna stood erect to reveal the body of a twenty year old woman.

"I see." Abel then picked up a book on the ground and dusted it off.

"What is that?" Anna inquired.

"What, this? It is the truth, my dear. The key to our salvation"

"Salvation?"

"Yes, the words in this book shall echo for many generations to come. It is a weapon, mightier than any sword, to fight the evil that has befallen us this day. It is our only hope."

Anna continued to look at the book very strangely.

"What troubles you, child?"

"My mother used to carry a book like that. She said it was the only way to save my father, but it did not save him. So, I stopped reading it as well…" Anna appeared shaken as she clutched herself tightly.

"It is alright," The man then took a white gold necklace from around his neck and placed it in Anna's hands, "You have lost your way. Come with me. I shall guide and protect you now."

Having no other option, Anna took Abel's hand and they stole off together into the shadows….

* * *

_Back to the present during Sparda's crusade through the human world:_

"Tell me, Sparda, how many times have you ventured into the human realm?" Mundus' tone was one of feigned curiosity. Since Sparda had left the demon realm to eliminate the Human Resistance, he had been coming back less and less.

"Seventy two times" Sparda's response was quick and to the point.

"And how many humans have you and your army killed?"

"Six hundred and twenty four thousand, three hundred and eighty two" The large and impressive number runs off of Sparda's tongue as naturally as water flows through rivers.

"That is commendable; however, it is not good enough. Those cancerous humans, those contemptible fleshlings, are still able to resist our lesser forces. This is not acceptable in the least. The humans must be totally eradicated, and you are the one who will do this."

"You would have me go alone?" Sparda's voice indicated an almost pleasant overtone at the thought of going to the human realm unattended.

"No…..no. I want you to take a small cadre of your strongest. I want you to find the leader of this human resistance, and kill him. Without their leader, the humans will fall."

"And how do you propose that I find their leader?"

"The way that any General determines his enemy……very carefully….."

And Sparda once again descended into the human realm with an army of his strongest soldiers, this time with a distinct objective; eliminate the head of the Human Resistance.

"Sparda, how will we find him, their leader?" Beowulf asked.

Sparda was silent and surveyed his surroundings, as if lost in deep thought. Not much was left of the buildings and huts that once surrounded the base of the Temen-Ni-Gru. Not one human remained in its vicinity, at least not in plain sight.

"Sparda, how will-"

"Silence!" Sparda cut Beowulf off, his red eyes remained fixed off into the distance, he calmed his mind and began to scan the city for the ephemeral glow that he had noticed on previous excursions.

_Where are you? This mission of Mundus' is futile, but while I am in the human world I can at least determine the source of that aura...where is it?_

He had never been able to find the source of this ethereal light, but it continued to fascinate him, almost to the point of obsession; he was inexorably drawn to it like a moth to flame. The Abyss, Frosts and Hell Vanguards that surrounded him began to grow anxious.

_Where could it be? Damn! It cannot be gone, can it? _

"Sparda, when are we going to atta--" the Frost was immediately quieted by a slice from Sparda's sword.

_What will I tell the others if I do find it? How will I explain why we are not pursuing the Resistance? They will kn—Ah! There it is…_

Then Sparda finally broke his silence.

"Do you hear that?"

"Hear what, general?"

Suddenly there was a very faint sound in the background, similar to that of a bell tolling.

"That."

"Yes, but where is it coming from?" Beowulf inquired.

Sparda lifted his sword and, without looking, pointed, "That way."

As Sparda and his task force made their way through the broken town, they came to a heavily forested area.

"There." Sparda's voice was stern and direct

"Where? I do not see anything"

"You must look beyond what your mere eyes can see, old friend, and look through the ether" Sparda then took his sword and swung it upwards with lighting speed, creating a narrow pathway where the overhanging trees were. And behind these trees, nested in the cover of the forest, was a small monastery, which, if it hadn't been for Sparda's keen senses may have never been found by the demons.

"Their leader is in there." Sparda spoke with false certainty.

"But how do you know, general?"

"Just put yourself in their position. If you were them, where would your leader be?"

The Vanguards and Frosts seemed very confused by this answer and fell back in line. A gathering seemed to be occurring inside the monastery, and Sparda stood ready to give the order. After a few moments of silence, Sparda spoke.

"Do not leave any alive. Show no mercy……GO!"

* * *

The bells of the monastery rang, calling for an assembly. The people quickly filed in and filled the holy house, leaving only room for people to stand. As the commotion quieted down, a man took the pulpit, with a woman sitting behind him.

"Good evening, my brothers!"

The sanctuary full of men and some women responded in unison, "Good evening."

The man then continued to speak, "We are gathered here today because we are on a mission," Several men in the audience responded with affirmations as the intensity began to build. "We are on a mission to defend humanity! To stand up to a new menace…these……creatures from Hell!"

"These are dark times, yes, but this is not a time for fear!" The man's voice grew louder and his statements more profound. "We will not fall, we will not, _can not_ give up! We will stand and we will fight! Fathers, you must protect your wives and daughters. Women, you must not question the will of your husbands, for he needs your faith now more than ever!!"

"We attempted to prevent this evil before but we failed. This time we _cannot_ fail!!" The energy inside the sanctuary became more intense and a great uproar arose from the crowd.

Men, clad in armor with weapons in hand, stood and beat their shields as they cheered the man on. They began to chant his name, their leader, "Abel! ABEL! ABEL!"

Then one of the men from the crowd spoke out loudly, "We must take the fight to them Abel, no more waiting in the shadows for them to attack _us_!"

"YEAH!!!" The other men yelled.

"Brutus, I know how it pains you to use such tactics but it is the only way. We tried to take the fight to them before but too many lives were lost. We cannot risk that again."

"But we can Abel. We are smarter than those beasts, we can organize an effort. Listen to me, brethren; any lives we lose in battle will be atoned for and avenged. Our will is stronger than theirs, our courage outweighs their numbers. I do not care how strong these monsters are. NO MONSTER IS STRONG ENOUGH TO--"

Suddenly a thunderous crash erupted from the back of the sanctuary as Beowulf exploded through, immediately destroying the balcony, killing a few.

Beowulf roared as the men and women scattered in terror. Raising his arms, his demonic power of light pulsed through his veins. Like a beacon of destruction, Beowulf began to tear his way through the room.

Abel looked on in disbelief, "Oh dear God, save us, Father!"

As the Frosts flooded into the sanctuary, Brutus pulled out his sword, "BROTHERS!!! TO ARMS!!" Then all the men in the sanctuary took out their blades and shields and charged the incoming demons, letting out a might war-cry.

Vanguards trampled over pews, piercing the humans' body armor with their sharp scythes. The women, unable to escape, begged for mercy but were only granted the sharp claws of the powerful demons.

Beowulf swung his arms back and forth, clearing the room of would be attackers. And Sparda stood at the monastery entrance with his scaly arms crossed, watching the debacle with a grimace. Brutus then took out a large battle axe and headed straight for Sparda. His head was severed before he could even lift the weapon over it. Sparda re-sheathed his sword and continued to observe.

At the front of the sanctuary by the pulpit, Abel looked on in horror. He then regained his composure and turned to the woman who was sitting behind him.

"We must get out of here. We will go through the exit in the back."

The woman, full of fear, her hands shaking as they grasped an old, dark brown book, silently followed him.

Then, unexpectedly, a Vanguard rammed the end of his scythe into Abel's spinal column, held him up then slammed him to the ground.

"Abel! No!" the woman screamed.

As the demon was about to do the same to her, one of the men ran it through with his sword and punched it away with his shield.

"Get out of here, Anna! You are second in command; we cannot lose you as well"

Sparda watched on as the woman fled through a hidden door in the front of the sanctuary. He walked past all the carnage around him to follow suit. He then touched the wall where the woman had disappeared. As he pushed, it began to open up like a revolving door. Behind the door was a dark spiral staircase that led downward. Sparda could hear the quick footsteps of the woman echo as she ran.

When he made it to the bottom of the stairwell there was a long hallway with a series of rooms lined on each side. Sparda began to walk down the hallway slowly. As he came to the first door, he opened it with his sword and peered in, noticing only a desk and a stack of books. When he came to the second room he did the same and still saw nothing of any significance. He made his way all the way down to the last room of the dead end hallway. This one he opened with his clawed hand and stepped in.

The room was slightly larger than the others and depended on a small, melted candle for its illumination. Sparda walked over to the workbench near the back of the room, on which sat more old texts. He picked up one of the books and thumbed through it, trying to make sense of the words foreign to his eyes.

Suddenly, the woman jumped from behind the door with blade in hand, attempting to stab Sparda in the back. With supernatural speed, Sparda reacted, slapping the knife out of her hand causing her to fall to the floor. His blade hung inches from her nose as she was now at his mercy. As their eyes met, Sparda paused and stood frozen in a daze. This woman, apparently, had been the source of his obsession for months.

"What are you waiting for, aren't you going to kill me? I'm right here!"

Seeing that Sparda was hesitating, Anna tried to get up and run but he blocked her path, and she hit his gray exoskeleton with a thud. She fell backward from the shock and tried to crawl away. Sparda slowly and deliberately walked toward her, turning his sword into a spear. She began to cry without making a sound.

The tears pouring from her face catch Sparda's eye. Emotions, at least in the way humans experience them, are something demons are devoid of, and it stops him dead in his tracks. Silence runs like high tension between them, and he suddenly notices something hanging from her neck. In her helpless state, the aura around her intensifies, seemingly being amplified by the amulet, which was now glowing white hot. Sparda is in a stupor, and Anna is in shock. He doesn't know whether to kill or not; she doesn't know whether to run or not.

The silence was broken by Beowulf's deep voice calling from inside the monastery, "Sparda! We've cleared most of them out, some escaped underground. Should we follow them?" Sparda looked into the woman's eyes and saw something he was not accustomed to: hope. _That's where she was running to_, he thinks. Beowulf's voice called again, "Sparda! Is it clear?" Sparda's eyes narrowed almost to a close, looking at the woman. Confused thoughts pulsed through his head like a tempest. "Sparda! Is it CLEAR!"

Sparda continued to look into her eyes, still slightly dazed for reasons beyond him. He eventually snaps out of it as his thoughts die down to nothing, and he abides in silent observation. He shouts, almost cutting Beowulf off, "It is…Clear!"

His sword returns back to normal as he steps over the woman and exits the chamber. He doesn't give her a second glance, but she follows him with her eyes until he melts away in the darkness. She remained huddled in the shadow of a large golden statue until she heard the screams stop, and until the sound of Sparda's hooves clicking on the stone floor was nothing more than a faint memory.

She slowly arose and made her way down the hallway to peek out into the now lifeless sanctuary. Fires still burned from both the humans and the demons. Bodies were strewn about like animal skins. Without a conscious command, almost by surprise to herself, her legs begin to propel her and she heads for the underground, where the Resistance can regroup, where she can gather her strength, where she can wonder why that devil spared her life, alone, as opposed to the hundreds more that he slaughtered that night……


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11** _The Human Resistance_

"How many were lost?" A man speaks. His clothes are covered in blood, the blood of his family. His tone is that of a leader. His bald head, covered with sweat, gleam against the fire built into the mud-brick hearth.

"It's hard to tell. We would've counted the heads, but some…it was difficult to tell what was what, didn't know if you were looking at a head or not…" answered a second man. Long dark hair covered his face. Both men were dressed in common clothes, simple shirts, dark pants and sandals.

The first hung his head in his hands. Sounds of those who "survived" the attack resonated through the walls of the underground hideout, screams of those that were dying, screams of those who wished they were dead. No one was silent, except for Anna.

Huddled up in a corner, facing the wall, her thoughts ran rampant. _How did we not predict this? Why did they kill so many? How did they even know? Were they waiting all these years? Why didn't it kill me…? _

The first man touched Anna's shoulder, startling her a little. "I know this is a silly question but how are you holding up?" She simply smiled and nodded her head slightly; her young eyes were still bloodshot from her cries of sorrow hours before.

"Abel was a great man. He died with honor. He left you with his legacy. You will always see part of him in your beautiful daughter."

Anna looked up to a small cradle fashioned out of wicker and vines. Inside, sleeping peacefully, was an infant girl covered in warm, white cloth. _Has it really been two years already….._Anna thought.

The man continued to speak as he wrapped his arm around her, "You have his message of hope within you. You can lead us, I know you can…"

Anna did not respond to his words of encouragement. Her frozen face betrayed her anguished thoughts of the hours before. As she sat there, the image of Abel's face as he breathed his last repeatedly flashed past her mind's eye. All she could think was: why? _Why did they have to take the man who had given me hope again? Why have we been subjected to such enduring torture? __What sins are we being punished for?__ This is no way to live. _

The long-haired man walked over to another man at a large table, who was fashioning weapons to fight the demons, and lifted a large crystal ball accented in pewter. A silver liquid sloshed inside the hollow ball. "What is this one?" He asked.

The man behind the table, face covered by large glasses, didn't take his eyes away from his work. "It's quicksilver, infused with the light of the full Moon, along with White Oak tincture suspended in a cohobation of _aqua vitae _and _spiritus salis_. I've added a triturate of Luna's Tears for protection, and some _aqua fortis_ for good measure. There's a funny story the White Oak tincture, you would not believe how much dew I had to distill and—"

"Please Ivan, spare me the boring details. Just, what does it do?"

"—Ahem, well," The man got up from the table and walked over to a pile of demon carcasses that had accumulated during the night. Raising the glass orb above his head, he smashed it on one of the corpses. The glass shattered and as the silver liquid erupted over the body of the demon, it twitched and convulsed. Finally, it dissolved into nothing. "You see..." he picked up a piece of the orb and stuck his finger in some of the concoction. "It hurts them...but not us. Call it 'Holy Water'."

The spectacle caught the eye of Anna, who walked over to the man, "Ivan, will that work on the big ones?"

The men look at her, surprised that she had spoken.

"You mean like that large light-beast? Or that...polycephalic ice-hound?"

"Yeah." She nodded. Her eyes began to fill with something, like a seed had been planted within her.

"I honestly have no idea. Unless I have a specimen to examine, I can't know for sure. These 'devils' are a lot stronger, probably due to the high coherence of their etheric and astral bodies. We haven't found anything bigger than these fodder demons, which are inherently unstable due to their method of physical manifestation. Not even so much as a corpse."

The feeling in the atmosphere began to drop but one man broke the silence, attempting to lighten the dark mood, "Ha hah! That-a-boy, Ivan! I always knew that brain of yours would come in handy one day!"

The long-haired man put down the Holy Water and lifted a large green orb, "And this one? More alchemy?"

"It recovers lost vitality. In case you get hurt, ingest this and you will be as good as new. I…haven't thought of name for that one…I don't have much imagination…"

"Well, as long as everything works to get those damned Flies out, I don't care if any of it has a name or not…"

A man milling in the crowd yelled over the murmuring, "How are we gonna get rid of all of them?"

The bald-headed man opened his mouth to talk, but Anna spoke, now standing at the table. "We can't. We just need to show them we aren't open to being nice neighbors. Abel once told me that it is in our darkest hour that we must be steadfast. And it is in this hour that we also find hope. Who knows, all of the demons can't be evil, maybe we'll find one that will help us…" Her thoughts were locked on Sparda, the demon who spared her life.

Protests were heard from all over. "With all due respect Anna, that is blasphemy. Help us? Why would they ever help us?" She turned to a large group of people; people who had lost faith, who had lost everything.

"You've seen how bad it can get. You've seen what our own kind, our own people, are capable of. If there are humans as evil as any devil, then why aren't there demons that are as kind and compassionate as humans?"

"Demons are demons, humans are humans, end of story. We need to kill as many of these things as we can and that's the only thing that matters to me. But how are we going to do that when some of them seem like they can't be killed?" called a man from the back. He was backed up by the rest of the crowd, full of adrenaline and anxiety.

"OK, then," Anna smiled and reached the table, lifting a large weapon that had been worked on for years. Capable of firing small balls of iron, they called this gaudy weapon a pistol. "You just saw what some of these weapons can do..."

She turns back to the crowd and fills the pistol with iron balls. "We simply bring their Hell to them…" Her eyes don't appear as young anymore. Mere minutes ago, they were those of an innocent girl, now, they are those of a warrior.

* * *

"How many were killed?" Mundus' deep voice, ever present yet rarely apparent in Hell, echoes in his benevolent white hall. Sparda stands with Beowulf and the remaining Vanguards and Frosts from the battle.

"Thousands throughout their world have fallen." Sparda answers. The inexact number from Sparda puzzles Mundus, but he continues.

"Were any difficulties encountered?"

"A few dozen escaped…we have Beelzebub's burrowing to find them."

"I cannot say I am very pleased with the fact that humans were able to out-smart you, Sparda, but I am pleased nonetheless" Mundus pauses for a brief moment, "What do you think of the human world?" he asks Sparda.

Sparda had never given it much thought. He was torn; on one hand, his demonic soul screamed about how horrible and disgusting it was. On the other, his mind rambles on about how majestic it is, the beauty of it…

"It is…" his words trail off… "…Manageable…"

"Excellent. Sparda…you will be in charge of planning my rule over these two worlds. You will spend much time in their world. Do you believe you can handle it?" Mundus' question drips with sarcasm.

"For you, Master, of course." Sparda's words are equally sarcastic. _Besides_…he thinks…_it's time not wasted on you_…

A voice comes from behind the throne of Mundus. "My Lord, allow me to accompany _Sparda_," the voice seems to seep venom as the name is pronounced, "I could be of great…assistance to him." This demon appeared to be very similar to Sparda but had wings made of thick black feathers and more pronounced horns.

"No Azrael, this is to be Sparda's mission and his alone."

"But, Master-"

"_Never _question my will, servant! You shall do as _I_ say."

The demon lowers his head in restrained indignance and glances over at Sparda with vindictive eyes, and Sparda glances back aloofly, creating an awkward tension. "Yes master" he growls.

"Now, as Sparda will be in the human realm, you will be here. You are now, as ever before, charged with maintaining and expanding my rule in the unconquered lands of the Underworld. Do I make myself clear, Azrael?"

"Yes, Master." The reply comes through fiercely clenched teeth.

"Good, now begone from my presence. With Sparda spending much of his time in the Human World, I am moving Beowulf to first-in-command of the legions of Hell. Alastor will be joining you from now on, Beowulf." As Alastor enters the room, a rogue's gallery-of-sorts takes shape; three high-ranking demons, all similar in appearance, standing in the formation of Mundus' eyes, with Beowulf the dead center. "Sparda, return to the Human World. Continue work there as usual. Report back in one week time……"


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12** _Away from the Darkness_

The anatomy of a demon differs vastly from that of a human. Internal organs are used mostly for refining and transporting the demon's arcane lifeblood; organs like the stomach and the digestive system are not present, as most demons do not eat in the traditional sense. Skeletal structure is as different as each Tribe, if it, or for that matter a physical body, is even present. Some are more ethereal, like whispers on the wind, while others have bodies as frail as a human's. Some, still, have carapaces tougher and stronger than any armor a human could forge. And there are some demons still that can even regenerate lost limbs and recover from ordinarily mortal injuries in an instant. These kinds of demons, these "devils," tend to be the most powerful. Some have lifespans of a mayfly, others though…

Sparda had been living for almost three millenia already. He was well into his "adolescence" at the Battle of Argosax, some 2000 years ago. In his extensive demonic life, a little over middle age, he had seen and experienced so much, but he had never actually felt. Demons do not have feelings in the way humans have them; they have dark souls. But Sparda was transforming, in ways that no demon had ever even contemplated. These changes to the very fabric of his dark being all started that night when he locked eyes with the human Anna. Since then, he had been caught in a torrential rush of all kinds of emotion, the most prominent of which was burning curiosity; curious as to why he feels now, what he feels, what makes him feel, why different things trigger different sentiments. But most of all, the one feeling that's always there, is a strange yearning for something, something he's not aware of….

He had spent weeks in the human world considering all of these things, safely removed from the ever-present influence of Mundus. During his time in the human world, he'd also been secretly surveilling a group of humans that were part of the resistance. He began to see definitive differences in the humans as well; he was now able to tell them apart by face as well as personality. When he first arrived in the human world, they all looked the same: simple, clumsy flesh-ridden beings. They all looked the same, except for…

"Her…" Sparda whispered in his demonic tongue. A rush of exhilaration surged within him at the sight of Anna, tinkering around a mud-hut, doing this and that. She moved around the camp, doing things Sparda didn't pay particular attention to. Sometimes she needed to move away from the trees and bushes Sparda hid behind, and sometimes she moved closer to them. The times when she moves closer are the moments that Sparda embraced; the jittery excitement pumps through his body like adrenaline. Excitement: one of the emotions Sparda doesn't quite know how to control yet. His smooth gray face was almost protruding through the bushes he was behind; either he did not notice or did not care.

She was dressed differently than she was in the monastery weeks before. On this night, she looked more like a battle-ready soldier than she did in her simple, white peasant dress. She now wore tall black boots with gold buckles on the side, over brown pantaloons bound by leather straps, decorated with assorted knives, Holy Waters, and the pistol she had become accustomed to over the past few weeks. A brown book was latched to her hip and small cases of iron pellets lined her waist like a belt. Upon her slender frame she wore a white, three-button blouse that hung off her shoulders, revealing her collar bone. Her long dark hair was now pulled into a ponytail, and swayed as she walked. And around her neck, she wore the now polished white gold necklace, fitted with that strange amulet, that Abel had given her over two years ago. What stands out most about her are her deep blue eyes, shining in the moonlight. As she walks away from the trees Sparda immerses himself in every detail of her.

Across the camp, he notices two children kicking a ball around. To him they are simply, smaller, weaker humans, like a separate subs-species rather than developing beings. A little girl with short brown hair kicked a ball over to a little barefoot boy. The boy kicked the ball hard and it flew into the bushes where Sparda was hiding. The ball rolled and hit Sparda's foot. He looked down and picked it up to examine it. Suddenly, the little girl dashed into the bushes, apparently looking for the plaything. Sparda saw her coming but, for some reason, he could not get himself move. He simply stood in the shadow of a tree, holding the ball as she approached, his red eyes narrowing in the darkness.

The little girl saw the Sparda's menacing silhouette as he held the ball, but she was not afraid. She smiled and held out her hand, waiting for Sparda to give her the ball. Still very young, the little girl had no idea that she should probably fear this being. In her imaginative world, everything was fine, and the war between humans and demons was non-existent.

Sparda saw the girl holding out her hand and realized why she was doing so. He slowly reached out with his clawed hand holding the ball and the little girl grabbed it. She gave Sparda one more look, giggled, and bolted back into the camp to play with her friend. Becoming a bit wary of this encounter, Sparda ponders….._will she warn the others?_

Thinking his cover would be blown soon, Sparda was preparing to fly away but was suddenly halted by a loud explosion coming from the camp. He turned back to see orange flames leaping into the sky. Several people around the camp scattered, thinking that the demons were attacking again.

"What the hell was that?" Called a man armed with sword-in-hand.

"It's ok. It's ok. My apologies."

The people looked on to see Ivan appear from the smoke and debris of the explosion.

"It's ok, it was my fault. It's just a small glitch, no need to worry…"

"What in the world did you do, Ivan?"

"Well, I managed to cultivate a very….powerful material. It was extremely hard to extract and stabilize. At any rate, as you saw, its effects are very …destructive"

"Good. This will work well against the demons. How much of it do you have?" Anna inquired.

"Well…that's the thing; I have only managed to cultivate it in its raw state. It is extremely volatile in this form, to say the least…It would put you as well as the demons in grave danger. However, if I can manage to, hmm, harness it in some form, maybe you would be able to carry it with you into battle…If I could only find a way to condense the Eagle's Blood within the Lion's mouth…"

"Alright, but until then no more surprises ok?"

"—On that note, I have a new weapon for you" Ivan hands Anna a sleek metal pistol, "I combined the basic idea of your crossbow with the properties of the volatile compound I was just telling you about…"

"Wait a minute," Anna interrupted, "didn't you say the material was dangerous and unstable?"

"Well…yes, but that's why I gave the pistol a metal barrel, and I only used small amounts of the compound. The combustion is necessary to propel the ballistic projectiles in the chamber. Now you do not have to fire the arrows with your own power, you can simply pull on this trigger, and the strength of the, hmm, explosion will do the rest of the work. It's controlled chaos..."

And smiled as she admired the new weapon, "I don't know what we would do without you Ivan."

"No, you give me too much credit. I would not be able to do this without our collective effort, and people bringing me specimens from the battlefield. Incidentally, if by some minor miscalculation on my part, your hand _is_ blown off by the blast, I _have_ been working on rudimentary, functioning prosthetics…"

Anna grinned uneasily and hooked the pistol on the back of her belt. As she walked back over to a small den, Sparda watched her intensely. Suddenly, a shriek, like none ever heard by Sparda before, startles him. He observed Anna carefully and noticed her pick up another, smaller human wrapped in cloths. The baby continued to cry, waving its arms back and forth. Anna then begins to rock the infant up and down very gently, and whispered softly in its ear. Confused by the gesture, Sparda surveyed the camp once more.

Then it finally sunk in, he started to _actually_ see things, details to everything; the colors of the grass and leaves, the lights from the stars hanging in the sky. The way the air moved over his face, the way the dirt felt on his feet. It almost knocks him down, it's so much to take in, but his gaze turns back to the group of humans and he takes in the particulars of what they are doing.

"They're making weapons…"

Like the ocean beating against a cliff, bad news continues to hit Sparda. He remembers about his "check-ups" with Mundus. His wings snap, and with tremendous power, he barrels through the air and blasts through the gate to Hell……

* * *

Deep inside the Temen-Ni-Gru, Geryon and his new rider, the evil-obsessed Architect of the Devil's Tower, now consumed by the soul and essence of the Dark Rider, sit majestically surrounded by hundreds of slaves. Geryon's power radiates from his eyes, shining like sapphires among the pale, washed-out, inverted luminance caused by his limited power of time control. The Rider's smile stretches from ear to ear, teeth contorted and twisted in his rotting face. The "disobedient" workers hang lifelessly in mid air, as long metal arrows jut through their sternums.

"Excellent, slaves...."

From the point-of-view of The Rider, the slaves move at rapid speed, due to his effect on time. For the slaves, however, time moves at a painstaking crawl, with days passing for them in the mere blink of Geryon's eye; Time moves so slow as to drive even a dead man out of his mind. Unlike his steed, Geryon, who can only null time, The Dark Rider's powers null the mind as well, causing anyone within range to do his bidding. The lifeless bodies in the air scream of involuntary self-mutilation….

"Now, the final piece!!!"

Hours seem to pass for the slaves as they slide the largest piece into place. Before them, a gift for their Master, stands a statue of awesome dimensions: a rendering of Mundus himself.

"Good. Lord Mundus will be pleased……"


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13** _Moment of Truth_

Stone ground crunches under Sparda's cloven hooves as he lands in the blinding white, arcadian Hell. Sparda walks quickly and with purpose, but does not run. As he arrives in the throne chamber, a huge effigy of a more youthful Mundus is present in his stead. The statue is apparently carved from the same stone as Mundus' body, and appears like a marble Adonis whose visage is an unmoving sneer of cold command. _Your arrogance knows no bounds, Mundus_…Sparda thinks, _are we no longer fit to bask in your splendor? _ The statue's triangular eyes began to blaze with lightning as Sparda enters the room. Most demons would back away in fear, sensing the rage in Mundus, however, Sparda does not. He continues valiantly up to Beowulf and Alastor who were reporting to Mundus. Sparda only catches the end of the conversation.

"…The human's armaments will not be of much use to them, my Liege. Those odd ballistic weapons will do nothing more than irritate us." Alastor's voice called to Mundus. His voice had a slight rasp to it, but he spoke with intelligence.

Mundus' deep voice boomed from the statue. "Excellent, Alastor. You fulfill the role of a leader well." Mundus paused as the statue's lifeless eyes appeared to follow Sparda across the room. "Beowulf, do you have anything to report?"

Beowulf's gruff, barking voice rattled out from his fang-encrusted mouth, "Nothing Alastor hasn't told you…"

Mundus heard something in Beowulf's voice he didn't like. After an uneasy silence, red lightning flew from the statue and engulfed Beowulf. He fell to the ground convulsing and Mundus released him. Mundus waited to see if Beowulf would be foolish enough to talk. Beowulf's gray body smoked as he struggled to maintain consciousness.

"Is there something you would like to add?"

Beowulf turned his head and glared at Sparda. He then turned back toward the statue, "No, Master…not here. Not now." Mundus knows why Beowulf does not speak.

"And you…" Mundus' voice was now directed at Sparda

As Beowulf crawled backward, Sparda stepped forward. He inspected the statue; a gift from the depraved humans, as they see Mundus.

"I have heard reports from multiple demons, Sparda, high-ranking devils, that you have been watching some of the humans very closely."

Sparda doesn't respond.

The statue began to glow with energy. "I came to check in." Sparda finally breaks his silence.

"Yes…of course. Beowulf, Alastor!" Mundus called "Show these abortions of the Light that their weapons are useless against the legions of Hell. Go now!" The two generals turned and headed for the portal.

"Sparda…" Mundus called a final time.

"I do not know why you waste so much time watching the humans, but be assured that I _will_ find out. I am willing to pardon your unscrupulous actions so long as your loyalties remain with me, but if I ever sense dissent within you, my retribution will be terrible and merciless...You are a demon, never forget that."

Sparda's sword clicks and becomes a large spear, "I never will…"

------------------

The battle was short and bloody. As Sparda rampaged through the field, rage built up inside of him. In the face of each of his victims, he saw Mundus. For the moment, he had forgotten the time he'd spent in the human realm recently. His dark soul was now at work and it only angered him more. Sparda killed at least five dozen humans that night. He could see Beowulf and Alastor heading back through the portal after killing hundreds more. He used his foot to slide a human's body off his sword, and wiped the blade against his leg, cleaning the blood off. Suddenly, the feeling of cold steel against his rough, armored neck caught him by surprise. He slowly turned around and met eyes with what was to be his sixty-first kill. His eyes widened slightly as he saw who it was.

Anna's harmonic voice, calm and cool, filled Sparda's dark soul with emotions again. His hand slowly gripped his sword, but Anna held the pistol up to his chest. Sparda stopped, but did not let go.

Anna realized who she was about shoot and spoke, "It's you…..why have you come back here? Didn't you get your fill of murder the last time? Well? I should kill you where you stand..."

Sparda did not respond but instead continued looking into her eyes, his rage slowly subsiding in spite of his bloodlust.

"So, you have nothing to say? Good, I would rather not know the sound of your horrible tongue anyway. You spared my life once. Unlike you, I will NOT grant you the same courtesy." Sparda is taken by surprise again. Never before has he understood the human language, until just now. Suddenly, Anna was firing a barrage of bullets at Sparda from close range. As she fired, Sparda dodged with ease, still holding on to the handle of his sword, clamped to his back.

Realizing that her pistol would be of no use, Anna stopped firing and looked at Sparda in terror. She was still within close range and waited for Sparda to make his fatal move. Then, something unexpected happened; his ego inflating, Sparda opened his mouth, and tried to speak the human language…

"It……is good…if you don't…use that… I…don't want…to kill you…" His words were slow, but he spoke with a surprising level of intelligence.

In shock, Anna dropped her arm. "You…." Sparda watched her in confusion as she began to breathing became labored as if something was stuck inside her chest. Memories of her father flood her brain….

_Do you like it? I made it myself. Consider it a good luck charm_

_You know I love you and your mother very much._

_I would never do anything to hurt you_

_Do not worry Anna, I will not be gone for long._

_I need you._

_Father! NO! _

She cupped her free hand over her face, concealing her tears. After a few seconds, in rage, she pointed the gun at Sparda again. With a flash, his sword is at her throat. They stood locked in a treacherous embrace. Sparda looked in her eyes and saw her tears. She looked into Sparda's eyes and saw a glimpse of what could have been a soul peering through. The glimpse calms her to an extent and she feels as though she can let her guard down, but not yet her gun. Her voice breaks the tension in Sparda.

"What is your name?"

He looks at her and remains silent for a few seconds, "Sparda." His voice seemed to echo against itself in this new language.

" 'Sparda'? What does it mean?" Anna's gun still drives into Sparda, although it doesn't make contact.

"Meaning? It means…nothing. If my name is…different…I am still the…same demon…"[1] The way Sparda speaks hit Anna as extremely odd.

"You don't speak like a demon. You know our language, and you also have some strange wisdom in your dark soul. Why? Are you trying to be a human? Because you can't, you know." Her tone became angry and aggressive.

Sparda's words flowed more easily now, as he began to recall the way that he had seen the humans speak. "I have…watched you for weeks. I have learned…some things." He looked at her tears again, and pointed with his sword. "Why do you do that?"

Anna uses her free hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks, "Cry? Why do I cry? It an emotion called sorrow. It happens when you're hurt. But a demon like you wouldn't understand that…"

"You are right. Devils….never cry."

Anna became angry again and screamed at Sparda, "No! No emotions! You don't feel anything! Compassion! Love! Joy! Pain! All meaningless to you! Look at this!!" Anna drew Sparda's attention to the silent and bloody battlefield around him "Look at what you've done to my people!" Her tears began to well up again. "Slaughtered like animals!! And you can do this all because you do not care. You don't even know what it means to care!"

Sparda maintained his composure and responded calmly to Anna's anger, "Oh? This is the second time I have had my sword ready for you, and yet you still stand. Not many are alive today to make that claim. And if I do not feel, then what is this odd feeling I have in my chest? Like I have been hit by an enemy? Is that what you call 'pain'? And if so, isn't that an emotion?"[2]

Her eyes still filled with anger, Anna corrected him, "No...that's called compassion."

Sparda lowered his head to the ground, almost taken in by the feeling in his chest, "I see..."

Anna lowered her pistol, and tilted her head, as if seeing Sparda for the first time. For a brief second, she thinks she sees a man. "You aren't like them, are you?"

Sparda quickly raised his head, leaving no space between Anna's words and his own, "I am a demon. No matter what happens, I will always be a demon…."

Off in the shadows, in the dark clouds of the sky, overlooking the unlikely scene was a being of incredible power; a being who ruled the Underworld. The lighting red triad of eyes hovered above the clouds as they looked down upon the battlefield. And, just as quickly as they appeared, they faded away, without making a sound…...

* * *

[1] Name here refers to the conventional name, not the true name. ~Ed.

[2] Paraphrased from disjointed statements with demonic language mixed in. ~Ed.


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14** _Of Loyalty and Dissent _

"We cannot undertake it alone!" Samson erupted at Thaddeus. His bald head always seemed to glisten when he was distraught. "And even if we could, I'll not be part of an offense on that....abomination of a building without a full battalion at my side!"

Thaddeus' demeanor was a trade-mark of his own; a rather frightening looking man, he always wore dark clothing, and his long hair covered his face. Sometimes, when the light hit him just right, he looked like a member of his old Order. "You do yourself dishonor, Samson! What would you have us to do? Sit around and serve ourselves up on a silver platter for these unholy creatures!?"

A small group of warriors, numbering around two dozen, stood behind Thaddeus, who calmed himself to a reasonable level, and walked next to Samson. He placed a hand on Samson's shoulder, and leaned close to his ear. "You know Abel would have wanted us to be in command. Not some woman, even if she is his widow." At this, Samson became angry and turned to face Thaddeus, "Of course, I do not doubt her will as leader. Between the both of us, though, we have more experience in battle than Anna has even lived. She is just a girl, and we cannot expect much to come from her leadership for that simple reason. Besides, I, unlike her, know the layout of that Tower."

"Only because your own hands fashioned it," Samson said quietly.

"I am transformed, Samson. I realized—"

"I do not care for your realizations with Abel! _No one_ can ever absolve the sins of which you are guilty."

"People change, brother..."

"People are also shaped by their past."

The two men both had logic that was undeniable. They both sat, mulling things over. Thoughts ran rampant through Samson's mind; _Thaddeus is right. We have achieved nothing under Anna's leadership...and we do possess some of the most military experience within the Resistance. But...disobeying Anna would be to disobey Abel..._

A man from the crowd breaks the silence, "Are we going to get on with it or not?"

"Shut up, I am considering the matter!" There was a pause before Samson spoke again. Samson realized that following Thaddeus' plan could turn out for the worse, but he could not help but think about the far worse fate the humans might suffer should they have continued to follow Anna. Thus, Samson was of one resolve, "Alright Thaddeus, you take point."

--------------

The Devil's Tower stretched into the hopeless abyss of the sky. "It just keeps going..." a soldier said, looking straight up into the sky, unable to see the top, "Huh, I've never actually been this close to it..."

"Well, you are soon to be closer to it than any sane man would dare to imagine..." Thaddeus said, moving through the group of soldiers, his hair twisting in the wind. He moved in front of the crowd and turned to them.

"Alright, brothers! So far, no one has been able to accomplish what we embark upon tonight. Steel thy souls; Failure is not an option! We will be victorious, or we will lie among the corpses of our forefathers!"

In response to his rallying, they uttered a mighty war-cry as they battered their shields and armor with their swords.

A hulking figure of a man came out of the crowd, carrying a large grappling hook with a rope hundreds of feet long. "That ledge up there. Hook onto that ledge." Thaddeus pointed. "You men!" He pointed towards a large opening in the side of the Tower. "Go in through there. Make your way upward. And no matter what you may see or think, do not stop for even a moment lest your resolve wane."

The rogue faction split in half, one part heading up the rope high into the Tower, the other running full bore through a back entrance.

The faction heading through the back door made it in first. They entered into a large circular room, decorated sparsely with torches. As they moved closer to a door in the back of the room, they began to feel a gust of horridly frigid air.

"Hey...uh... we've got a problem...my boots are...stuck to the floor," a soldier says. The others turned to help their comrade. As they tried to pull his feet off the floor, the room began to shake violently.

A deep, bellowing voice that seemed to echo as it spoke, almost ruptured the soldier's eardrums. "Foolish mortals! You are not worthy to set foot here!"

A soldier, remembering the words of Thaddeus, stands tall though hesitant, spear drawn, "Step forth from the shadows, unholy creature, and meet your demise!"

A roar as deep as that of a pride of lions brought the entire faction to its knees. Sleet and hail began to whip across the soldier's faces, with air so cold that it felt like razors against their skin, most of the soldiers went blind. Screams of terror filled the room, almost drowned out by the howling storm. The leader of the faction fell on his back and heard a blast of wind barreling towards him. He rolled out of the way, and heard his comrade, still frozen to the floor, screaming in pain.

He grabbed his comrade's leg and pulled himself up to see his brother totally encrusted in ice. Just then, a huge ice-covered claw swiped through the air, cutting a gash in the leader's chest, spilling his intestines, and shattering his fallen brother. As he lay amidst the frozen flesh and a pool of his own congealing blood, a set of orange eyes emerged from the blizzard, followed by a set of green and a set of yellow.

The huge dog-like beast stood over the dying soldiers, slaver pouring from his triple maw, around his huge fangs, and freezing. The enormous hell-hound then spoke, "You shall all die slowly, until you know the meaning of suffering!"

-----

The other group heading up the side of the Tower had finally reached their destination. Several soldiers took off their clunky, sweaty armor. Thaddeus and Samson led the way through two large doors lined with chains and spikes, toting a bow and spears, respectively. Another door stood across from the entrance, situated between two twin pillars at the end of the room.

As they began to make their way through the room, they were greeted by hollow voices, one slightly deeper than the other, but almost identical in every other way.

"Brother, I'm afraid we have yet more guests..."

"I see that..."

The soldiers stopped dead in their tracks, and listened to the twin voices.

"Must we entertain them as well?"

"Of course."

"Well, the others wouldn't let us entertain them..."

"Don't sound so solemn, brother."

As the two voices continued to carry on, the soldiers looked around to see the bodies of fallen comrades, reaching all the way back to the beginning of the resistance. "What sort of entertainment do we have waiting for us?" one whispers warily.

"We are gracious hosts!" One voice answers.

"And we," Thaddeus says as he bows slightly, "are but humble guests."

"Finally! Guests that do not wish to abuse our hospitality! Maybe now we can have a little fun!"

"But we must go through!" Samson calls out. Thaddeus had turned to grab his mouth shut but was too late; the damage was done.

Trails of fire whip down one pillar while hurricane-force winds gust around the room. "What a pity. We would have been very generous with you!"

"So true, brother. We cannot let you pass!"

A twister of flames ripped down toward to soldiers. Riding the torrent, twin demonic gatekeepers, both headless and carrying large, serrated scimitars, impacted the ground before them….

* * *

Deep within the Underworld, the Rebellious Army had been assembled once more, this time with Alastor as its leader. Lightning cracked in the sky as Mundus appeared overhead. Taking a moment to look around, he surveyed the army and saw that all were present; all but one...

"Loyal servants! I am pleased to see all of you here. On this occasion, however, I must reveal a solemn truth to you all." The army became quiet and listened with intent. "There is a traitor in your midst."

Perturbed commotion stirred within the army, as Mundus' voice boomed in anger.

"SILENCE!

"A traitor, which I have yet to identify, lurks within your ranks. Again, it is time for all of you to decide with whom you place your allegiance. A great storm is coming. Those who have built their loyalty steadfastly upon the mighty rock will be spared. Those who foolishly placed their hope upon the endless, shifting sand will see it fall and be washed away.[1] I tell all of you this in the confidence that you will choose wisely. Many great warriors stand before me, and if there are any among you who have the slightest doubt in my rule, step forward and be granted absolution."

Mundus' eyes smoldered violently as he came to the "offer," making the euphemistic insinuation of its acceptance apparent. A few moments passed in silence, as no one dared to move.

"Excellent."

"As of now, Alastor is your Head Commander." Purple lightning roared across the sky, and Alastor's sword fell in front of the army. From the dragon-head hilt and wing-guard of the broadsword[2], Alastor appeared, sparking with electricity.

"From this point onward, you will answer to him and him alone."

The whole of the army fell to one knee, "Yes, Lord Mundus!"

"Now, leave us."

"Alastor..."

"Yes, Master?"

"As Head Commander, there is something I must show you; a new weapon that has been worked on for decades now, borne of my own mind."

"What manner of weapon is this?" Alastor inquired, placing sword in scabbard.

"One that shall twist the dreams of mankind into one eternal nightmare….."

* * *

Thaddeus and Samson, the sole survivors of the encounter with the demonic twins, had made it near the top of the Tower.

Still shaken from the recent bloodbath, Samson asked nervously, "Now what, Thaddeus?"

Looking around with his back to Samson's, he replied, "I am unsure of our path, brother but—"

"Thaddeus! Look out!" By the time he turned, it was too late; he walked right into the crimson orb, triggering the trap. Suddenly, everything around them slowed to a crawl, and the colors of the world were inverted and bleached.

The clopping of horse hooves was faintly heard as a gate of blue flame erupted out of nowhere. A dreadful, gigantic horse covered in blue flames barreled through it, drawing behind it a gothic carriage carrying souls of the damned. The carriage swung around and stopped just in front of the helpless Thaddeus. Instantly, the rider of the horse was in the air, leaping off and moving towards Thaddeus at what appeared to be impossible speed.

As he surveyed the unmoving figure, he spoke: "Ah...Thaddeus...the one who turned...imagine, this power could have been yours..." The Rider extended his hand towards Thaddeus' head as wisps of darkness writhed about his fingers. The ebon tendrils seeped through Thaddeus' flesh and bone and thrashed violently at his mind. Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was all over as the Rider negated his time-control. Thaddeus' body crumpled to the ground as droplets of his brain matter fell like silent rain.

Samson ran for the edge, but was almost caught in mid-step by another orb. The Rider appeared in front of him instantaneously, "A friend? Poor freedom fighter." Samson got a good look at the man under the cloak and was shocked to the core of his spirit itself, his face contorting into a grotesque caricature of terror[3]. A raspy whisper escaped the confines of the shadowy hood: "Now…you are free." Samson is grabbed by the arm, and silently thrown over the edge.

* * *

"Where are they!" Anna roared, running through the Underground.

The crescendo of Samson's scream was heard even through the solid earth. Anna and others rushed up to the ground and out to the Tower, to find Samson on the verge of death, broken and bleeding.

"...A...Anna..."

"Samson! What happened?"

"Anna...Thaddeus...wanted....to go...without you...wanted to...oh God...The Rider...."

"What Rider?"

"A man...or what used to be...he...a...patch...on his chin...short dark hair…..empty blue eyes...carried a bo....book...k"

Samson gurgled as he choked to death on his own blood. "Rest easy, brother..." Anna reached up and closed his lifeless eyes.

As she walked away from him, through the crowd, she began to play his words back in her mind. Suddenly, Anna's eyes widened in disbelief as she froze in her tracks. She looked down at her right hand which was now sweating as it involuntarily clutched at a brown book.

Not word was spoken out loud, but one sentence repeated endlessly in Anna's mind,

_"Father...no, it can't be…he's dead. Father..."_

* * *

[1] Matt 7:24-27.

[2] There is a discrepancy in the manuscripts here. The recently discovered leaves in the Osmon codex indicate that originally, the demon and the sword were conflated together as one entity. This differs from the translation of a manuscript now known to be derivative, Demon World History, which is housed in the Vatican's Forbidden Text Library. In the latter translation, the sword and the demon are divided into two separate entities, perhaps due to a transcription error or so that it does not obscure certain theological tenets. ~Ed.

[3] Elided in the Demon World History version, a fragment in the original appears to note that "his face did not change at all as he fell from the top," i.e. that is it remains contorted in terror until he makes contact with the ground. Of course, the narrator or author mentions this only to highlight the hideous nature of the character of "the Rider," as it is impossible for the author of the Temenist text to have seen Samson's face during the fall. ~Ed.


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15** _Good and Evil_

"Sparda..." Mundus' words came out slowly, with subtle undertones of restrained malice. Sparda stood tall before the monument to Mundus, not so much as twitching a muscle to attempt a bow.

"Heed my words, _loyal_ servant. Tomorrow is a day that will be remembered forever; the day I shall begin my rule of both worlds. You will lead my dark forces in a final assault on their realm. Make preparations for your generals to gain complete control of the Human World. Report back to me when your task is done."

And with that, Sparda took his leave. Still blindly believing he was the Commander of Hell's Army, unaware that he was playing right into Mundus' hands, Sparda rushed inexorably toward his fate…..

* * *

Making his way through Temen-Ni-Gru, Sparda was out to perform Mundus' bidding, at least to the extent that it still suited him to do so. The continued growth of emotions within Sparda frequently left him dazed and confused, if for no other reason than his futile attempts to make sense of them. Sometimes he _had_ to visit Anna in order understand these emerging facets of his being.

Some of them, however, he already knew. His defiance of Mundus both frightened and exhilarated him; standing up to a being like Mundus meant death...or worse. The disgust he felt at being treated as a mere servant angered him but he did not understand why he felt it. This is what sent him to Anna that night.

On his way, though, he stopped to visit the generals within the Tower. His first destination was the Arachnid Nest, to talk to Phantom. But, there he found only Arachnes, languishing over the prey caught in their gossamer webs. _Phantom has abandoned his post_, he thought to himself.

Through the Fire-Storm Chamber, Agni and Rudra gave him the cold shoulder, not uttering so much as a word. Sparda began to feel that he was an outcast among his own people.

He delved deeper into the Temen-Ni-Gru, to the subterranean Opera House. Just outside the cathedral door to the Electric Witch's lair, Sparda heard the scream of a human. He swung the door open casually to find Nevan hunched over a man, sucking him dry... She turned to see Sparda, and a huge, fang-filled smile spread across her face.

"Hey sugar...I knew you'd come back one day..." she slinked over to Sparda, wiping the thick, warm fluids from her face. Except for the burgundy hair covering her chest, she was totally nude, her pallid skin radiant in the warm glow of the Opera House.

"Cover yourself, wench..." Sparda turned his head away. Nevan huffed angrily, and summoned bats to create a gown, hiding her lower body.

"So hon, I guess you're not here to see me?" She said as she strutted away from Sparda, planting a seat on the stairs of the stage. She looked at him with a pouting lip.

"I am…but not for the reasons you want..."

"Oh, what a shame, sugar..." She leaned back and crossed her legs, opening them a little more than necessary while doing so. Sparda maintained his composure, until he felt a tugging sensation below his abdomen. He looked down to see a man with two open wounds on his neck, clutching his leg frantically.

"Please...help me..." A wave of emotion hit Sparda with full force. _But there is nothing I can do for this one_... he thought. With a flash, Sparda had pierced his sword through the man's heart, killing him instantly.

"Ooh, how merciless..." Nevan purred, obviously turned on by Sparda's brutal display of power. She glided over to his side immediately. "You sure you're not here to... 'see' me?" She ran her hand over Sparda's face, and began to move it down his abdomen. His clawed hand shot up to hers instantly, breaking her wrist. He threw her to the ground, next to the limp body of her last victim.

"Mmm, a little kinky for you, hon," she said, not even fazed.

"Mundus has issued an order to prepare for the final assault. Tomorrow is the day he will take over this world."

Sparda turned and walked out the door. The words of Mundus echoed in his head, reminding him that he was to report back after the generals had been alerted. _I must see her first_...he thought to himself as he exited the Temen-Ni-Gru….

-------

Nighttime in the human world always seemed the same to humans, but to Sparda even the blackness of the night sky blazed brightly with invisible radiance. The cold wind rushed over his armor plated carapace and would have given him goosebumps if his anatomy allowed it.

The glow from the portal high in sky made the night seem like dawn, emanating light around the apex of the Tower. The Human World always seemed so torrid to Sparda. _How can creatures such as....her...exist in such conditions? _

As he flew onwards, his gaze finally met Anna's. She froze in mid-step, and quickly looked Sparda up and down trying to make sure it was him. Just as quick as he made eye contact, she ducked into the bushes. _Does she still fear me?_ It reverberated in Sparda's mind the entire time he gave chase.

By the time he had reached the bushes and jumped through them, she was nowhere to be seen. He looked around quickly to see a few limbs snapping back to place. He leapt through the brush to see fresh marks on a tree a few feet away.

He walked to the tree slowly, inspecting his surroundings, looking for Anna. He looked up, hand to hilt, expecting to see her. Nothing. Just then, there was a click behind his head.

"For a trained killer, you sure do fall for the same tricks over and over..."

Sparda sighed, "Yes, I suppose I do." He turned around to face her and stared down the barrel of the pistol. "Then again...none of your 'tricks' can really harm me. That weapon isn't even loaded, nor do you have ammunition to load it with…and even it if was..."

She lowered the gun, "I guess not." Anna walked away from him a little, and leaned up against the tree. "What brings you back here, more slaughtering of my people?" she asked sardonically.

"No. Even if that were the case, I fail to understand your pessimistic views on the subject..."

"How _dare_ you say that!" Anna screamed in a hushed tone, trying to stay hidden from her comrades. She knew that no one else would understand if she was seen talking with a demon. "Even the darkness that dwells in your soul must have some compassion! What if a member of a party you go with is killed, will you not take revenge for them?"

"Of course I will." Sparda continued talking with Anna, not picking up on the tone the conversation was carrying. To him, there was no difference between talking about compassion and revenge and "evil" than there was talking about the weather. "That is my duty as a soldier. To allow the enemy to escape would bring dishonor to my clan. Is that evil? To take revenge?"

"You don't get it do you? What your comrades have done is evil! What _you_ have done is evil."

"How so? I follow orders, and my orders are to kill those who stand in my 'master's' way. There is no evil in our world." Sparda saw that Anna was not pleased with his words, and the entire conversation began to anger him. Frustrated, Sparda spoke again, "You should know…..I never wanted to come here in the first place…." Anna looked up from the ground and into Sparda's eyes. "If there was something that I could do to reverse all of this, as if it had never happened, I would…"

This was just the moment Anna had been waiting for, "Well….." She tried to swallow but her mouth went dry, "There may be one way….." Anna pulled out the brown book that she had been carrying since the day she met Abel. She held it close to her chest.

"What do you mean?"

Anna did not respond as she stood trembling and anxious, afraid to say what she had to, for fear of the possible consequences. "Well….what do you mean by that?" Sparda repeated. She remained silent. "I do not have time for this" Sparda prepared to go back to Hell.

Anna saw her only chance slipping away and went on the offensive again. "It is not right to kill, to murder others for your master! As long as you continue to serve him, there is no way things will go back to how they were before."

"I beg your pardon?" Sparda's voice became a silent roar. "I do those things because it is my will to do so. I do what I see fit, regardless of what I am told. If it so happens that killing a few meaningless humans will ensure my survival, then that is what I will do."

"That is just not…..it is not right." Anna is almost sickened by the words of this demon, this "Sparda." Here she thought that this demon might have been the counter-balance to her father. She looks at Sparda, and is almost able to see into his soul but it is consistently overwhelmed by his demonic appearance.

"I see good within you…..You don't have to be evil. You have a _choice_….." Anna's words cut deep into Sparda's mind. Tears started to pour from her eyes.

"You are doing that again..." Sparda pointed to Anna's face, obviously annoyed at the interruption. She turned her head away from him.

"Just go! Leave me alone..."

He felt like he had swallowed a rock, and a rather large one at that. Sparda lowered his head in what appeared to be shame, and turned back to the Devil's Tower. "I am sorry..."

* * *

On his way flying back up the side of the Tower, he remembered her words...

"_You have a __**choice**_..."

The words echoed in his mind. Suddenly, the thought of Mundus interrupted his contemplation. If Mundus ever found out what he had said, that he had used the same irreverent words that Mundus himself had used long ago, Sparda would not have lived long enough to regret his blasphemy. But Anna's words continued to reverberate around the thought of Mundus' retribution. Like two warriors, the feelings clashed in his mind, until, just before the Gate, he silently uttered to himself:

"You're wrong. I **don't** have a choice..."


	17. Chapter 16: Awake to Justice

**Chapter 16** _Awake to Justice_

Anna's words echoed in Sparda's head as he entered the gate to Hell.

_What your comrades have done is evil_

_What __**you**__ have done is evil_

_It is not right to kill, to murder others…_

_This is not just…..it is not right_

_I see good in you….._

_You do not have to be evil_

_You have a __**choice**__….._

Her words intrigued him and yet he found himself disgusted as well. How could he, a demon, a devil elite, turn on his own kind? Where would his loyalties lie? His honor? As a demon, was it not in his blood to be "evil?" Did killing someone at the thought of it not come naturally to him? Was it not fulfilling to assert his dominance in skill and power over those unfit to live? What was this foolishness called "justice?"……

As Sparda burst through the gate he came upon a gathering of sorts with Mundus' statue at the head. A legion of demons, including Alastor, stood in a semicircle around a battered devil being held up two Abysses. Sparda fell into the crowd as Mundus spoke.

"You dare to defy me, slave!? Do you not understand the consequences of such treason?"

There followed a disconcerting silence as Mundus' deep voice finished echoing through the vast chamber. The empty eyes of the statue were cold and lifeless, yet somehow, impossibly, they stared with deliberate intent. Mundus' next words came out with such gravity and authority that the atmosphere itself seemed to sink in dread.

"Repent of your sins and you shall be absolved…"

The hulking demon, radiating flames, looked up at the Emperor with disdain but did not speak.

"I see. Your obstinacy has driven you to foolishly spurn even what little mercy I have left," Mundus continued. "With your silence, Ifrit, you have sealed your doom. Thus, as is fitting, your fate shall be to be silenced eternally, made into a mere slave to the whims of humanity; a weapon to be used at the discretion of the weakest, lowliest creatures in this world or the next."

With that, the Abysses pulled out their scythes and prepared to attack the subjugated demon. However, naturally, Ifrit did not stand and simply accept his execution. With surprising agility, he leaped out of the blades' paths before they befell him. The two scythes converged on one another, each deflecting the other away. The Abysses continued the attack but Ifrit stood firm; as the first Abyss attempted a slice, Ifrit executed a flaming roundhouse kick hard into his body, completely incinerating him. The next one was already in mid-air, ready to attack, but as he came down he was caught with a monstrous flaming uppercut from Ifrit which sent him flying away ablaze. Suddenly, Ifrit was being attacked on all sides by Abyss', Frost, and Hells that had teleported around him. He incredibly made quick work of them all at once, with a series of rapid punches and kicks, finishing the most powerful ones off with an incredible falling kick from above. As Ifrit stood surrounded the pile of steaming carcasses, he glared back up at the Dark King.

"You will never control me! I do as I will!" Ifrit roared in a deep baritone growl.

The other demons remained still as they waited for a rebuttal from Mundus. Sparda watched the scene intently.

"Is that so? You believe that you possess free will. But just as you stand before me now, you remain at _my_ mercy and it is _my_ will that shall be done."

In a rage, Ifrit leapt into the air, preparing to attack the King himself. The air seemed to suddenly seep out of the Hall as the surrounding demons gasped. Then, just as Ifrit was about to make contact, a blinding white light poured from the statue, halting him in his tracks. Then suddenly an intense beam of energy shot right through Ifrit's left shoulder, nearly taking his entire arm off. This was followed with a barrage of beams throughout his entire body. As he fell limp to the ground, amazingly he was still breathing.

"I would…die…before…I serve..you"

Pleased that Ifrit was still alive, Mundus allowed him to wallow in his pain before striking the fatal blow.

"Yes, slave, you will."

And with those words, Mundus sent a web of red lightning through Ifrit's body. He shook and convulsed, as his mangled body became more deformed with each wave. Sparda could not bear to look and turned away in revulsion. "Now, take his empty carcass[1] to the Wastelands, a fitting grave for this unworthy servant"

As Ifrit expirated his last breath, Sparda looked down at him and he was overwhelmed by shame. He then glanced up at Mundus and feelings of hate and anger burned within him. He could remember seeing Argosax treat his servants the same way and it infuriated him. _What have I done? Did I help get rid of one tyrant to appoint a new one?_ He could not stand the sight anymore and belted away into the dark abyss of Hell.

-----

Going into the farthest regions of the Underworld, Sparda came upon one of the most bizarre places within the demon world.[1] It was the recently created prison dubbed the Black Pit, which held the living captives from the human realm. Not many humans remained in the multiple confines as they were slowly executed or mutilated shortly after their arrival and those who did remain, prayed for death before the demons took them to their doom.

As Sparda landed in the Black Pit, he noticed three humans, still alive, crying in their cell. As he approached, he realized it was a man, and a woman and little girl. On closer observation, he realized the child was the same little girl who he had encountered a few months ago in the human realm. She trembled in fear as he stood in front of the prison bars, constructed of an obsidian-like stone that burned with weak light of souls used to produce it. She held a red ball tightly against her chest as she shook.

"Get away from the bars, Marlene!" screamed her mother. The father stood ready to protect his family from this menacing demon.

Noticing the fear in their faces, Sparda remembered his time spent in the human world and his conversations with Anna. He remembered his role as a demon and their roles as humans. And he remembered how much it hurt Anna that his kind was murdering her people. Sparda was suddenly overcome with feelings of shame and, for the first time, he was disgusted with himself.

Then, in an act of unfathomable endearment, Sparda knelt down to one knee and held his clawed hand out through the bars. The little girl saw the gesture, realized that Sparda was the same demon she had seen before in the human realm, and was suddenly comforted. She began to approach Sparda but her mother stopped her and pulled her back.

"Marlene, no! Stay away from it! You stay _away_ from us!" the father then stood in front of his family and picked up a large bone shard from the ground.

Sparda knew what the man was doing and knew why he was doing it. Only one solution ran across Sparda's mind, talk to them.

"Do not fear me, child……" There were no sinister undertones in Sparda's voice, only honesty and sincerity.

The mother and father then appeared perplexed, confused as to how _they_ could understand one of _them_. Still stunned, the little girl's parents stood there as Marlene approached Sparda. His clawed hand was still stretched out through the bars of the cell and Marlene slowly placed her red ball in his palm.

"You can have it if you want." Marlene clasped her hands behind her back and rocked back and forth on her tiptoes, giggling. Sparda gazed at the ball and a slight grin ran across his face as he began to playfully toss the ball up and down from his palm into the air.

"What's your name, Mister?" The girl asked.

"Sp--" Sparda was suddenly cutoff by the sound of a bell tolling and a loud screech. Three Hell Vanguards began to lumber down the bloody pathway between the cells, toward Sparda. Marlene dashed back to her mother and father and wrapped her arms around their legs. As the Vanguards walked past Sparda, they glanced at him with heads bowed, showing respect for their general. Sparda stood with his head high as he concealed the ball behind his back. As the Vanguards passed, Sparda relaxed and turned back to Marlene and her family.

"Here, take this!" Sparda said to Marlene, holding out the ball.

"No, I gave it to you, you keep it." She responded with a smile.

"Of what use is this plaything to me? What would you have me do with it?"

Before she could respond, a macabre sound, the dissonant timbre of death rattles pierced by an agonizing moan, belted from within the prison walls. The family looked around, petrified with fear, and Marlene curled on the ground and began crying. Sparda looked around cautiously because he knew what that sound foretold.

Screams of humans could be heard within the neighboring cells, and as the demonic entity passed, they were all sucked back into the blackness of the wall, never to be seen again. Each successive cell yielded more terrible screams; some cells, holding more than a handful of humans, were completely wiped out and shrouded in the darkness of the demonic entity. Some humans held on to the bars as tightly as their bodies would allow, but the only thing left behind were their disembodied limbs, emphasizing the futility of resisting this haunter of the darkness. Over twenty cells were overcome before the screaming had stopped. Sparda knew what was going to happen next, and looked back at the humans in the cell with concern.

It did not take long before The Reaper had slithered up the walls inside the prison behind the family. Sparda stood frozen; he knew what was coming next but found himself unable move. The Reaper was a very unique kind of demon, if could even be understood as such; an ancestor to the Hell clan whose origins were shrouded in obscurity, it appeared as a silhouette, as if the darkness of the Underworld itself were a casting a shadow. It could only manifest itself against solid objects and it could not appear in an open space, but it could, however, snatch its victims from the material realm and submerge them within its own darkness. This demon had already wreaked havoc upon the human world. After the opening of the portal, the Reaper, able to multiply itself countless times, would go to the human world and bring any remaining humans back to Hell after a slaughter. Its manifestation drifted elegantly like a long, flowing robe carrying its signature scythe. As of yet, no means had been found as to how to kill the Reaper. Even the strongest of weapons did nothing against its shadowy body. It was rumored that even Mundus himself would have hesitated in confronting it.

In mere seconds, the Reaper had insinuated its phantom blade between the father's thoracic vertebrae, severing his spinal cord instantly.[3] Blood flowed from his chest as his wife and child screamed for him; he did not make a sound as he was pulled back into the wall, becoming a part of the very body of the Reaper. Inside the Reaper's body, the father was stripped of his flesh and his soul was completely devoured, becoming another prisoner within the black abyss. Sparda knew that fate to be a very gruesome one and cringed at the thought of it.

Then suddenly it hit Sparda. As the cries of the mother and little girl faded out of his mind he realized that the Reaper was not done yet. He had not come there for one soul but for all of them. Sparda's glance quickly fell to the mother and girl huddled on the ground shaking in fear. His glance then shot back up to the Reaper who had just finished "digesting" the father and began to creep back down to the remaining family.

Sparda's breathing suddenly became very rapid and shallow, and for the first time in his life, he dreaded the fate of a soul other than his. He actually cared. He cared about what was going to happen to the little girl and her mother. He cared if they were hurt or not. The feelings rushing through Sparda's body were almost unbearable as they all hit him at once. He continued to breathe more shallowly with each passing moment as the Reaper drew closer and closer to the family. He looked into the eyes of the little girl and saw fear. A fear he had never seen before, the primal fear of an innocent being. He felt an urgent need to defend her, to protect her from the impending terror and at the same time, he pitied her for not being strong enough to defend herself, her body not being strong enough to endure the pain. The entire scenario unfolding before him repulsed Sparda beyond comprehension. He was suddenly disgusted at an act that one of his own kind was going to perpetrate against a human.

Thoughts of Mundus' rule and his subservience to him also ran through his mind._ ALL OF THIS……ALL OF THIS IS BECAUSE OF __**HIM**__. AND I ALLOWED IT………._ It drove him into such a rage that his vision began to recede from the outside world. Time stood still as his emotions rose.[4] It did not take not take long for all of these emotions to come to a head. The Reaper drew dangerously close to the mother and the girl and Sparda suddenly felt a sharp pressure in his chest, beating over and over. He placed his hand to his chest to control the throbbing but it only grew stronger with each moment.

He looked back into the faces of the mother and the daughter and saw the face of Anna looking back at him. Her words then entered his mind once more. _You have a choice_! Then suddenly something happened. In an instant, the thrashing winds rushing through and around Sparda stopped and he stood calm and focused; his shallow breathing finally ceased altogether as he remained in silent repose.[5] The Reaper was about to make his final attack but was halted by Sparda's words.

"NO……**NO MORE!!**"

Before the Reaper could even cast his blank stare at Sparda, he was pierced through his gloomy body by Sparda's sword. The cell bars shattered as Sparda held his sword steady in the body of the Reaper. However, as all in Hell knew, no weapon could kill the Reaper, so it stared down at Sparda as if he had made a horrible mistake. But something was different now. Sparda had done something to the Reaper that could not be explained. As Sparda looked up into the Reaper's deep gloom, blinding light began to shoot out of its body. As it shook and seized the wall, it seemed to wonder how Sparda was hurting him, killing him; as an avatar of Death, it had, paradoxically, never experienced death before. Then it looked down and realized that there was now something different about Sparda, something different in his eyes. With other demons, he could always see the darkness in their souls but as he looked into Sparda's eyes he was blinded by some ethereal light.

Within seconds, the Reaper's body was split in two, white light seeping from its two dimensional exterior. It suddenly burst into the material realm and became solid black matter that sizzled in silent agony as the souls contained within its body shot out in every direction. It finally let out one moan of pain before it completely disintegrated and seeped into the ground.

The entire scene was beyond unheard of. Sparda, a demon, had just slain another demon to protect two humans. Beyond that, a Reaper had been destroyed, something that had never happened throughout the entirety of Hell's recorded history. He stood in silence, breathing deeply and slowly as he looked at the sizzling ground where the Reaper once was. He did not know exactly what he had just done but he knew an overwhelming feeling of righteousness overcame him, and a strange, impossible energy surged through his very being.[6] The kill was not a kill made for his own pleasure or to show his strength. It was not because he was obeying orders or giving them. For the first time, he killed because it was right, because it was just. Sparda's mind raced as he tried to figure out his next move. His adrenaline was high and his blood pumped with excitement and rage. He looked over at the girl and mother who looked back at him in shock and fear.

He did not think, he just spoke, "You must get out of here. Now!"

Before either of them could think about it, the mother picked up her daughter and began running out of the cell. However they did not make it far before they were confronted by three Hell Vanguards, eager at the chance to kill them. Sparda knew what he had to do. The Vanguards held out their hands, preparing to conduct their most devastating teleport attack and as the bells rang, they vanished. The ground beneath the mother and daughter began to ripple like water and as the Vanguards plowed their way upwards, their screams could be heard. However, when the dust settled, Marlene and her mother were no longer where they had been standing.

With superhuman speed, Sparda had somehow teleported and snatched them out of harms way. As he placed them on solid ground, the Vanguards looked at him confused and suddenly realized what he had just done. They knew that Sparda was now an enemy. The three Vanguards suddenly became ten as more joined them. They all held out their bony arms preparing to rush at Sparda and the two humans at once. But, as the bell tolled and the Vanguards disappeared, so did Sparda.

Loud cracks and explosions could be heard in the sky and on the ground as Marlene's mother held her close. Only small glimpses of what was happening could be seen because Sparda's movement was so fast. After a few seconds, the shrieking subsided. Then, shards of bone and tattered black cloths fell from the sky and Sparda reappeared in the midst of it all. Not one Hell Vanguard remained.

Sparda looked back at Marlene and her mother. He knew that he could not tell them to just leave. He knew he had to escort them out of Hell himself. And he knew that it would not be an easy task. There was a lot of blood to be shed and at that point, Sparda had no problem spilling it. Something had happened within Sparda that was changing him. The feelings had always been there but they were never recognized until now. He now had an unspoken mission, a mission that filled him with a clarity he had never experienced. He would betray his own kind on behalf of not only these two humans, but for all humans throughout the world. The thought of it drew an odd smile across his face.

Sparda's Rebellion had begun……..

* * *

[1] In the original manuscript, it seems as if this expression is meant to signify the demonic weapon which "Ifrit" used, or was himself, in a likewise manner to the sword that "Alastor" carries, or actually is himself. No indication is given on this leaf, but it is safe to assume from other appearance of the character "Ifrit" that this weapon is some type of gauntlet or greave. ~Ed.

[2] This is, of course, speculation on the part of the writer/s, "Didymus the Shrewd." According to the notes in the original manuscript "he" attested to the fact that it was the most bizarre place he had seen in his "visions." Whatever the case of the text's provenance, most the descriptions of Hell would seem bizarre to readers of the time. ~Ed.

[3] Such examples of anatomical detail could not be explained by the science of the time, which would seem to lend credence to the "visionary" hypothesis, if one were careless in their investigation. ~Ed.

[4], [5] My colleagues in the department of Eastern Religion have indicated to me that this is indicative of a state that mystics cultivate, called "samadhi." It is a kind of meditative absorption wherein thoughts cease and mind, body, and spirit become one unified entity. Concomitant to such a state, the "qi" energies in the body, conceived of symbolically as wind, become calm and a state of non-respiration called "hsi" is produced. However, to think that an illiterate 1st century scribe would have details of the stages of Eastern mysticism is plainly preposterous. ~Ed.

[6] From this chapter onwards, my colleagues see an astounding number of parallels to Eastern mystical traditions. For instance, they call this event the "arising of yang chi." My academic opinion is that their views re biased by their narrow field of study, and that they themselves are creating such parallels by eisegetical interpretation. ~Ed.


	18. Chapter 17: Showdown

**Chapter 17** _Awake to Justice:__ Showdown_

The flesh-like ground surrounding the prison squelched under Sparda's cloven hooves as he approached Marlene and her mother. Still in shock, they did not whether to flee or stay but they did know that this demon had just saved their lives.

"We must leave" Sparda voice was stern and calm.

"No! We, we can't, they'll kill us…." The mother retorted.

"No harm will come to you."

"But what about you?" Marlene said with a voice of naive, yet genuine, concern, "Won't your friends be mad at you?"

"Do not worry about me. I will be fine. My 'friends,' on the other hand, will not."[1] Sparda had become a new being. The cloud of darkness that had surrounded him since birth had dispersed and his vision was no longer occluded. He could now breathe in such total clarity that his mind ceased to move altogether; he no longer _thought_, he simply _knew_. This newfound certainty and stillness filled Sparda with a power of will the likes of which no demon had ever experienced before. The ground itself seemed to give way to Sparda's terrible, adamantine will.

"Come now, we must leave." Sparda picked the mother and Marlene up in both his arms and flew away. His goal was to get them back through the portal to the human world, but there was one glaring problem: the portal was easily over twenty leagues away. Another problem was, being in a remote region of Hell, he would have to pass many different Tribe[2] territories for any chance at a quick escape. The first of the territories he would have to pass was the Frost pit. He knew he would not be able just fly over with two humans in tow, yet he knew that fighting them would increase the likelihood that Marlene and her mother would be killed. _It must be done,_ Sparda thought.

The Frost pit, though not incredibly large, was incredibly treacherous to any invader. The icy environment gave the Frosts a definite advantage; there was no real ground to on which gain one's footing, and the steepness of the surrounding walls and platforms left the opposition at a constant disadvantage of having to fend off attackers from above. The frozen stalagmites that lined the pit simultaneously provided the perfect cover for the Frosts, as well as guaranteed that any slip on the part of the aggressor would be their last mistake.

As Sparda drew closer, he descended and eventually landed softly. "You must be quiet. Do not make any sudden movements." Sparda looked Marlene and her mother directly in the eyes as he gave his orders, "Right there," he pointed to a craggy opening about one hundred yards away at the end of the pit, "That is the route we must follow. The ground is very slick, so move slowly." And thus, they entered the deadly Frost pit.

Sparda took small steps as he maneuvered through the fissure, allowing Marlene and her mother to keep up. The pit was freezing cold, and the ice created a frigid, still wind that somehow howled through the caves above. They had made it almost half-way through the pit when Marlene noticed the frozen human body on the ground and was about to scream, but Sparda placed his finger over her mouth and shook his head slowly, indicating that she must remain silent.

But as Sparda turned around, a Frost was standing right there, silently observing them. "La tjork tala kee, une LAK, mehorje len nok fru?"[3] The Frost tongue was absolutely foreign to Marlene and her mother, as were the other demonic dialects, but Sparda knew most of the language variations in Hell and knew exactly what the Frost had said. In the human language, the Frost had said: "Where are you taking those humans, General?" A simple question, yes, but a precarious one at the same time.

Sparda could feel the gaze of the other Frosts, peering down at him and the humans from their caves. He did not want to start a fight, _not here, not with them here_. "I am taking them for execution before Lord Mundus. He requests them now, let me pass." Sparda could feel the other Frosts coming further and further out of their caves, eager to prey on the humans. Most evolved demons in Hell considered the killing of humans a type of amusement, a game to play to escape their permanent servitude in Hell and assert their dominance over weaker beings.

The Frost stepped aside, appearing to allow Sparda and the humans to pass, but, as soon as an opening presented itself, the Frost attacked. Sparda did not have to see it in order to know that the Frost had extended its frozen claw blades for attack and was about to stab Marlene. Just as the claw was about to graze Marlene's face there was a sudden flash of light; Sparda's sword was unsheathed, and the Frost's clawed hand lay severed on the ground. The Frost stumbled back in pain and cast its jagged eyelets up toward Sparda, who stood in front of the humans, towering above him. The Frost then squinted as it observed Sparda, "There's something…something different….." Its eyes widened and it belted out, "TRAITOR! He's the trai –"

The Frost was silenced as Sparda decapitated him. Then, an eerie cacophony of screeches, like glass being scratched upon glass, began to emerge from the caves as Marlene's mother held her daughter close. Sparda realized now that there was no other way; he would have to fight his way out. _I will not let anything happen to them_ he reassured himself. Suddenly, hundreds of Frosts flooded out of their caves all screaming the same thing in their dialect: "TRAITOR!"

Sparda had fought the Frosts before, but never had it been with the direct intent to kill them. He not only had to kill them all to stifle any possible leak of his treason, but he had to make sure none of them got their hands on Marlene or her mother.

The first wave of Frosts attempted to come down directly on Marlene but was intercepted by Sparda, whose blade was now a spear. As these Frosts were launched upward, more flooded into the pit. Sparda began to spin the spear above his head quickly, slicing off blades and limbs of the incoming Frosts. As the final falling Frost was knocked back, Sparda and the humans stood surrounded by yet one hundred more.

"Stay completely still. Do not make _one move_." Sparda spoke very slowly and deliberately to Marlene and her mother. They nodded in compliance.

Suddenly, Frosts were charging from all sides. Sparda did not have reason to think, so he simply acted. As the closest wave drew near, Sparda charged them head on and suddenly stopped, allow the low friction of the ice to preserve his momentum. As he slid, he made one gigantic circular slice with his blade in sword form, turning all the incoming Frosts to shards of ice. Sparda looked back at Marlene and her mother, who trembled as the other Frosts continued the charge. Sparda ran back towards them, with incredible balance on the ice, then his wings snapped backward and he sent himself barreling at the Frosts in a spiraling motion. Large gaps were created within the masses as Sparda went through the Frosts like an auger.

Not one Frost had made it within even ten feet from Marlene and her mother as the piles of frozen limbs and bodies grew larger. Over two hundred Frosts lay dead or mutilated on the ground, as a final wave approached. Sparda stood near Marlene and her mother and fought them all off in cyclic maneuvers. Sparda then smashed the permafrost around himself and the humans, cracking it, forming a gulf between them and the Frosts. He now had the higher ground and the remaining Frosts lurked back and forth, wondering how they would attack Sparda.

Then, one belligerent Frost decided to attack. It teleported over to the island but was summarily split in two but the Sparda's vertically spinning blade before he could even reach him. As his body parts fell to the ground, the other Frosts began to back away, knowing that they now did not stand a chance in single combat.

"MALLAA LARK TUR!" a voice resonated from the highest cave in the pit. The chief Frost emerged and revealed himself to Sparda. He was far more menacing than the other Frosts, with two curved blades in addition to forearm claws, icy spikes on its back, and a crown made of ice shards. "So, you are the traitor Lord Mundus spoke of…"

Sparda did not respond and fixed his glare on the head Frost. "You think you can defy the Throne?"[4]

"I _will_ defy the Throne," Sparda spoke.

"This time you have taken your heresy too far. This is where it ends." The Frost leaped from his position above Sparda and Sparda flew directly up towards him, his sword unsheathed. The collision created a flash of bright blue light and when it died down, the head Frost had lost both its blades. "_You_!—" but before he could continue his statement, Sparda had stabbed him right through the throat with absurd speed. He pushed his blade in deeper and, with two quick flashes, the Frost's body fell from the sky in small pieces.

With his death, the other Frosts fearfully retreated to their caves, acknowledging their defeat. Sparda's sword emanated steam as his rage coursed through it, sublimating its encasing of frozen blood and ice. He picked Marlene and her mother up in both his arms again and flew out of the Frost's pit. Sparda had never felt better than at this moment. Killing demons in this manner brought an indescribable satisfaction to him. As he slaughtered the Frosts, one thought ran through his mind constantly, _Mundus_.

His body became smaller and smaller as he faded away into the darkness of Hell….

* * *

It did not take long for Sparda to come upon the home of the Shadows. Remembering the survivors from his recent run-in with the Frosts, he knew that it was now pointless to try and sneak through. If he intended to leave Hell alive with two humans, he would have to fight them eventually anyway.

The home of the Shadows was actually spread across Hell, a network of caverns deep below the ground. To try and fly across any opening with two humans would be suicide, because of the Shadows' defenses; if anything tried to fly over or came too close to their caves, a barrage of needle-like energy shards would turn them into a pincushion. For Sparda of course, due to his armor, it would be nothing more than a slight nuisance, whereas the humans would be killed instantly. Thus, alighting quietly, Sparda told Marlene and her mother to stay above ground and away from the caves. "It will not take long."

Sparda landed in the murky blackness of the Shadows' Den. All he could see were the bright red eyes of multiple Shadows peering out of the darkness, silently watching, waiting. Then, Sparda noticed one Shadow creeping its way up towards Marlene and her mother, no doubt enticed by the idea of living flesh. He sliced it in three places and it fell to the ground.

"Your miserable lives end today. Come accept your fate."

Suddenly, Shadows exploded out of hiding, taking various shapes, some resembling blades, others resembling gaping maws with razor sharp teeth. A long, narrow blade extended from the darkness towards Sparda repeatedly, trying to skewer him. He jumped up away from them and found his footing directly on them, paralyzing the Shadow temporarily. He then ran along the spike with incredible agility, heading directly for the Shadow who was shooting the blade. It was pierced right through the eyes by Sparda's sword, appropriately, as he extended it outwards with great force. The Shadow writhed in pain and took on a spherical form that glowed brightly, lighting part of the cavern.

The Shadows that had taken blade forms, suddenly hurled themselves at Sparda from both sides. He was able to dodge, causing them to crash into each other. Then, all of the Shadows fell to the ground, and surrounded Sparda. They reared back and suddenly shot out their longs spikes all at once. As they extended, Sparda ducked and dodged in a way that most other demons were incapable of doing; indeed, no demon in history had survived a similar attack by a pride of Shadows.

Sparda found himself in a web-like maze of blades, constantly changing as the Shadows extended and retracted their forms. As Sparda dodged each spike, they appeared to be in a stalemate, but that would change soon. _I cannot waste time here; the humans could be discovered at any moment. It is time to end this…_ Sparda thought to himself.

He unsheathed his sword, drew it back and paused as arcane energy pulsed around him. A shockwave was sent through the caverns, stunning the Shadows and buying Sparda the time he needed. The aura surrounding Sparda began to shrink as all of its energy was concentrated into his sword, setting it ablaze with a crimson ardor. Transformed into its scythe mode and extended, Sparda threw it hard toward the Shadows as they continued their attack. Almost before it had left his hands, Sparda had teleported a short distance away.

He began to run towards the Shadows, through the labyrinth of skewers, ducking and dodging in the spaces in between the spikes. As Sparda leaped and slid through the gaps, he unleashed multiple bursts of hellfire in every direction. He would teleport and reappear later, sometimes in the air, sometimes running on the ground, and the fireballs that he shot from his arms and feet would connect with the bewildered Shadows. Although to an outside observer, the Shadows were shooting their spikes out at blurring speeds, for Sparda, time seemed to have slowed down. As he came closer and closer to the pride of darkness, he watched bemusedly as the spikes crawled towards him, evading them effortlessly.

Suddenly, Sparda leapt high into the air, teleporting from spike to spike, as his blade continued to eviscerate Shadow after Shadow. When he reached the highest spike, he began to run down it towards the Shadows, as spheres of molten magma formed in his hands. Now panicking, the Shadows frantically tried to pierce him, but he seemed oblivious to their striving. As he neared the ground, the caverns became blurry and shadows danced, as the air became thin. Just before Sparda unleashed his most devastating attack yet, there was a slight gasp as air rushed into the cave and ignited in a massive explosion, and the Shadows realized that they had lost.

As the smoke cleared, Sparda was left holding out his right arm. Within seconds, his blade found itself back in his hand.

The scene was now completely different; every Shadow had taken a spherical form and the entire cavern glowed with light. Sparda drew his sword to his side and charged. He slashed his sword with blinding speed as he made his way through the defeated pride of Shadows. As he made his final slash, the cavern became completely black again and the shadows danced with life no more.

Sparda flew back up to Marlene and her mother, appearing more alive than when he went in. He knew that his hellfire attack had granted them some time, having disrupted the entire network of caverns, but more Shadows would come prowling back into this Den soon enough. "There is no time to waste, we have to keep moving"

And Sparda continued on his way back to the portal. Sparda has just obliterated two of the most imposing demon clans within Hell but he knew that that was nothing compared to what he would have to face as he neared Mundus. Visions of an entire army, led by his fellow generals, heading towards him entered his mind. Sparda belted through the darkness of Hell and his mind began to race again. A far more grievous threat loomed on the horizon…..

* * *

[1] "I will be judged for my sins at a later time. My 'friends,' on the other hand, will not be granted such a reprieve." The previous is the line included in the earliest manuscript, although given the fact that Sparda is meant to be addressing a child, the translation included above seems more sensible. ~Ed.

[2] The manuscripts seem to be ambiguous in their use of "clan" or "Tribe." One apparent difference however, is that a clan seems to refer to a smaller social group, while a Tribe is somewhat akin to a larger taxon to which many clans may belong. ~Ed.

[3] This transcription is almost certainly a corruption or invention on the part of the author "Didymus." It seems to have no real syntax or grammar and was most likely used to convey the brutish uncouthness of demonic speech. The earliest extant manuscripts include a different transcription of vocalizations, but the section of the leaves are badly damaged and more time is needed for reconstruction. ~Ed.

[4] The original folio includes a reference here: Metathronos.


	19. Chapter 18: Battle of Brethren

**Chapter 18 **_Awake to Justice:__ Battle of Brethren_

Flying with impossible velocity, Sparda attempted to reach the gate as quickly as possible, before news of his treachery prevented escape entirely. Marlene and her mother clung tightly to his arms as he picked up speed. As he neared yet another clan territory, the vast lands of the seven Hell Jailers, he slowed knowing he would have to battle yet again. However, as he approached, he noticed that it was eerily quiet, far too quiet for the Underworld; there was rarely a moment where the wailing of human souls and the sounds of battle could not be heard. Out of the immense territory, not even one Jailer could be found in plain sight. Not even the glowing eyes of the varieties of demonic fauna, for that matter, could be seen discerned. The lands were completely vacant. _How strange, _Sparda thought as he passed, then he remembered Mundus' plans for one final assault on the human world. _He must have mobilized them already…_

As he flew over the land of the Hell Jailers, Sparda came upon a new territory, one that had not yet yielded to Mundus' dominion. As he entered the territory, he did not know what to expect, but as he passed over he noticed hundreds of demon corpses littering the valley. There was a confluence of all kinds of demons, all normally hostile to each other but now united by one reality under Mundus' reign: They had either opposed Mundus during the Battle of Argosax or had chosen not to fight at all, and for this they had been exiled. Some demons had clearly been brutalized, having been toyed with before their slow, agonizing deaths, while others were killed with the skill and precision of an assassin. _Who could have done this?--_

"Well, well, look who it is…Mundus' dog of war is off his leash."

The familiar voice startled Sparda, and he stopped immediately to look around but could not see a face to match it with.

"How presumptuous of me, I should have known that a mongrel such as you would not be able to perceive in the higher dimensions. Let me help you."

Suddenly, four demons manifested before Sparda, the leader of which appeared to belong to the same clan as him. "Azrael," Sparda cursed under his breath, as he slowly backed away to a safer distance for Marlene and her mother. Three other demons stood behind Azrael, two of which flanked him. The one on the right appeared somewhat like a very brutal, anthropomorphic dragon wielding a huge weapon, whose skin seemed to surge and smolder like magma. The demon on the left, which appeared to be unarmed, was covered in jet black chitin lined by translucent, veined wings and had, apparently, multiple compound eyes surrounding powerful mandibles. It stood still, unblinking, with a noble pride that evoked something of the Lord of Flies. The overall effect was that of a fusion of a scorpionfly, weta, and cockroach into a ruthlessly efficient killing machine. The last one, which stood a little distance behind, apparently more interested in the corpses than Sparda, was visceral and hairy, perhaps best described as a reptilian wolf.

"Did you expect to find some lesser devil in these unconquered lands? This _is_ my domain, after all."

"You are responsible for all of this?" Sparda asked, motioning to the massacre below.

"Well, I cannot take credit for all of it. My associates here may have had a hand in it..." Azrael looked back and smirked at the other two demons as they grinned wickedly.

Sparda glanced back down at the corpses, "Mundus' orders were for you to unite these lands under his rule, not to kill the demons he had not yet influenced."

"Obviously, your sanctimony has blinded you to the irony of the situation," Azrael said, gesturing at the humans in Sparda's arms. "Did Mundus order you to escort human prisoners from the Black Pit without authorization? To destroy his Frosts? Perhaps you were acting on his orders when you attacked the Shadow clan…or when you killed a Reaper."

_How does he know? Word cannot have spread that fast…_Sparda thinks to himself

"Oh yes, I know, about this and many other things. Sparda, there is so much _you_ do not know, and so much you never will." Azrael sneered at this statement, as if deriving great satisfaction from it.

"You are correct, Mundus gave me orders to conquer these lands, but he did not see it fit limit my methods. That lack of oversight on his part will be his downfall; _my_ influence is all that has spread across the unconquered lands and as soon as Mundus launches his final attack on the human world, the throne will fall to its rightful heir."

"And you are that heir, I assume?" Sparda quipped sarcastically.

"Is there anyone else more worthy? You see, Sparda, it is not in our nature to follow others; we do what we will for its own sake even in spite of great consequences. Our clan was never subservient to anyone before Mundus, and it is precisely this submission that led to their ruin.[1] Our clan, from Hell's birth, was meant to be the true ruler of the Underworld. I know that you are acquainted with this desire, the will to power above all else. If I am not mistaken, this is what drove you to defy Argosax, and certainly now drives you to betray Mundus. Search your feelings, you know it to be true."

"Someone like you, Azrael, would never understand my reasons for betraying Mundus."

"Oh no? Do you see those demons down there? I enjoyed every moment of it. Are you so ascetic that you would deny that your actions are not motivated by this very same enjoyment? The twisted and cruel desire to exert one's power over others in spite of—no, _because of_ the pain that it will bring to them. Why else would you feel the need to kill so many humans and then turn on your own brethren? Because humans are too weak to satisfy you, _brother._"

"Well, you seem to have me all figured out. You may have spent too much time in the exiled lands, Azrael, you are beginning to sound like a Nobody. Perhaps consider a visit to Nevan or one of her coven to calm your nerves. That is, unless _you_ are too weak to satisfy _them_, 'brother.'" Sparda prepared to fly away but was halted by Azrael, clearly incensed by the insinuation.

"Ah, yes, that exquisite plebeian wit. I do not know how I could have lived without it for so long," Azrael replied acerbically to through the gritted teeth of a forced grin. "I do not recall granting you leave of my domain, however; I do not take trespassing lightly. Incidentally, where exactly are you taking these humans?"

"That's none of your concern."

"Oh, but it is, because unless you are authorized, I'm going to have to kill them. This is Mundus' land; we must obey his wishes…." Azrael said sarcastically. His two comrades laughed quietly at the sound of this and started to become restless.

"Look, Azrael, this does not concern you. Now, let me pass or…there will be consequences." Sparda had started to become anxious. He knew that each passing second was now precious, that Mundus would soon catch wind of his actions, and when that happened, the fate of the humans would be the least of his problems.

"Consequences!? I must be mistaken, but I thought you just threatened _me_ with 'consequences!!' Surely, you were referring to yourself!!" Azrael was almost hysterical with feigned laughter.

"I do not have time for your games." Sparda was not unfamiliar with Azrael's tactics. He knew Azrael well; he knew that he loved to taunt and provoke his opponents, and get under their skin so as to break their spirit, as well as their body. Sparda also knew that Azrael would love nothing more than to beat him to a pulp right now, or indeed, anytime. Now that he was no longer under Mundus' protection, Sparda knew that his day was about to get much worse. _I do not have time for this, _Sparda kept thinking. "I will not fight you, Azrael."

"Oh, you _will_ fight me, and you _will _fall before me today."

Sparda went over the situation in his mind: Azrael was an incredibly powerful devil. Coming from the same clan, he shared a lot of the same abilities with Sparda plus his own unique talents gained from millennia of training and research. He wielded a deadly scythe bearing his own name that could transform just like Sparda's sword. He had a pair of monstrous black angelic wings, under which were two pairs of razor-sharp chiropteran wings. And finally, he had incredibly powerful ram-like horns that he was not afraid to use.

And Azrael was just the tip of the iceberg. His two comrades, though not as powerful as him, were just as fierce; one could outsmart most opponents with vicious precision and stealth and the other was able to overpower most demons in sheer physical prowess. Even though Sparda was only outnumbered three-to-one, the skill and abilities of these three elite demons were much greater than the hordes of lesser demons. On top of that, he had to protect not only himself but also the humans, and that would severely cripple him in battle. The particulars of the situation did not bode well for Sparda.

"Alright, Azrael, I will give you your fight. But there is something I must do first," Sparda said, looking down at Marlene and her mother. "I will give you your fight after I do what I have to do."

"That sounds fair. I am not altogether unreasonable, after all. You may proceed," Azrael said, mocking a bow.

Sparda began to fly past Azrael and his gaze came upon his two comrades. _Fortunately, I will never have to see these scum again,_ he thought.

"There is just one issue however….." Azrael said. Sparda did not even have time to react; Azrael was much faster than most demons. Before Sparda could evade him, Azrael had snatched Marlene's mother from Sparda's grasp.

"_Mommy_!" screamed Marlene.

"What do you think you're doing, Azrael?" Sparda said, trying to remain calm despite the pressure building within him.

"Well…." Suddenly, Azrael pushed the mother forward and she began to fall. As Sparda went to catch her, Azrael swung his enormous scythe in a circular motion and planted it through her back, causing blood and phlegm to burst from her mouth. Apparently, he had not wanted to kill her instantly, as she writhed and gurgled incoherently, impaled on his blade.

"_Mommy! No!_" Marlene cried, tears streaming down her face.

Azrael held the mother up with his scythe to look at her face. He appeared to study her labored attempts to hold on to life as her face contorted spastically at the pain and fear. Then, and this was the moment that drove Sparda over the edge, he smiled. As she continued to dangle from his scythe, Azrael summarily swung it around to the edge of a cliff, and slid her body off with his cloven hoof. Her soon-to-be lifeless body plummeted down the rocky outcrops accentuated by a series of disjointed grunts, and then an empty thud as she landed among the corpses of the demons. Azrael turned towards Sparda and grinned. "So, how does your schedule look now? Or do you need more motivation?"

Something within Sparda looked out into the eyes of Azrael. In a certain sense, he felt freer, finally unbridled, unrestrained; with an opponent such as Azrael, Sparda would not need to hold back any longer for fear of hurting the humans. He looked back down at Marlene, who was still crying uncontrollably, and it angered him beyond belief. "You sicken me, Azrael." Sparda placed Marlene on a hanging offshoot and looked into her eyes, "Do not cry. This will be over soon" Sparda then took out the little red ball which he had kept clamped to his hip and placed it in her hands.

Sparda turned back, flew towards Azrael and took out his sword. He came five feet way from him and stopped. "You will pay for what you have done."

"That is more like it!" Azrael exclaimed amusedly, turning his scythe into a gigantic halberd. Suddenly, his two comrades came to his side to join him. Azrael shot them a livid glare, "No! You two stay back. This is _my_ fight. If either of you dare to interfere, make no mistake, you will pray that you had been granted the putrefying ecstasy of the carrion below. Besides…you two shall be witness to the fall of the great and mighty Sparda before my power."

"But sire, I –"

"Hold your tongue, worm! Lest it be lost to you..." His two comrades then fell back quietly and visibly perturbed, following their leaders orders. Sparda had not said another word, but had remained steadfast and prepared before them. Azrael turned back to him, with face marred by serrated smile, as his weapon became a long sword. "I have been waiting for this moment for millennia."

Then, without warning, Azrael and Sparda charged towards each other. The collision created a shockwave and flash that caused hurricane-like winds to blast through the lands for a brief moment.

"Tell me, Sparda, how does it feel to know that your end is near?"

"You tell me, Azrael." Their weapons were moving at light speed, as each parried the others advances away perfectly. They deflected each other back with great force, each using their wings to counter their momentum in mid air. Azrael then snapped his huge black wings around his body, and charged at Sparda. Sparda shot his wings out to brace himself for the impact. When he drew close enough, Azrael opened up his wings, sending a cloud of razor-sharp feathers at Sparda, and held out his weapon, now in scythe form. Sparda turned his sword into a voulge and spun it around vertically, blocking all the debris.

The two warriors collided again, trading blows, going back and forth at an incredible pace. Azrael threw a diversionary kick at Sparda's abdomen which was blocked, but as Sparda blocked the kick, Azrael came in head first, ramming his rigid horns against Sparda's head. The blow stunned him for a bit as he fell back.

"Weakling! You could never handle a challenge head-on!" Azrael taunted as he went in for another attack. Both their weapons converged in sword form and it was now a test of strength and will. Azrael grinned as he looked into Sparda's eyes, "I could never follow you in that regard."

They pushed each other back once again, neither one able to best the other. "What are you talking about?" Sparda inquired.

"You and your 'Rebellious' army. How pathetic! You know, I observed you from a distance……as you trained, gathered your strength, and collected your followers…." As he spoke, the battle continued, still neither one was gaining much ground. "But I saw what you could do. You are nothing! You cowered in the ranks of Mundus' endeavor, just as you cower before him now. True power is not found with others; others will pass away before you. The only true power lies in solitude, within the one alone. Thus, I could never follow you. I chose not to join your so-called 'army,' which was doomed to fail from the start. It is only because of Mundus that Argosax did not have your head. How sickening…"

"You are truly deluded."

"You do not _deserve_ what you have. With all of our power, we could overthrow Mundus, but you do nothing but grovel at his feet. You are disgrace to the clan!" Azrael spread his wings out once more, revealing his deadly bat wings, "All that is yours is rightfully _mine_! And mine, it will _be_!"

Suddenly, they were fighting even faster than before and the battle became more intense. As Sparda, transformed his sword into a voulge, Azrael transformed his scythe into a halberd. As Sparda changed his voulge into a sword, Azrael changed his halberd into a sword. The two went back and forth without stopping, matching each others defense.

Sparda then began to think about the gravity of the challenge that lay ahead of him after Azrael. His mind was suddenly not focused on the fight in front of him. The thought allowed for just the opening Azrael had been waiting for. He kicked Sparda hard in the abdomen and slashed him across the chest with his scythe. The wound healed almost instantly, but Sparda was slightly taken aback.

"Is this all the 'mighty Sparda' has to offer? This will be your burial ground, weakling!"

With that, Azrael drew his scythe back and it began to crackle with azure and black electricity as a blade of energy extended beyond. "Mundus mortis est, ab caelo et ad inferos."[2] In a flash, the scythe was hurtling towards Sparda, maneuvering wildly as if the sword itself was alive. Sparda dodged the first pass by a hair's breadth, but the scythe curved in mid-air to come around again. This time Sparda knew that he would not be so lucky, so he shot towards the sky as the rotating blade turned on a dime in pursuit.

Sparda flew as fast as he could, and tried every aerial evasion he knew, but all to no avail; the scythe seemed to be tethered to him by some invisible thread, something which gave Sparda an idea. Without warning, he made a beeline directly for Azrael, hoping that he would fall prey to his own stratagem. However, as he approached, Azrael appeared to be smirking, as if he had anticipated this.

To Sparda's surprise, and with a flick of Azrael's wrist, the scythe froze in mid-air and then resumed a course towards Sparda. _With his control of the blade and my evasion, this could go on forever. Let's see how the puppetmaster fares without his strings…_Sparda's sword began to pulse with red energy, and in one swift motion, he spun in the air and launched it at Azrael. The move seemed to catch him off-guard, as the scythe wavered just slightly in its flight. And that was all Sparda needed; he suddenly halted, hovering for just a split second, before he teleported above the scythe and snatched it right out of the air.

As Sparda's own sword came closer and closer to Azrael, he made no attempt to dodge it. Then, just before the red energy blade made contact, he reached up with impossible precision and caught the edge in his hand. "Were you expecting me to evade? With your clumsy grasp of that technique, I was beginning to wonder if your sword would ever reach me." He repositioned the sword in his hand and began to shift through the forms at will. "Hmm, you have not even begun to realize the potential of this weapon...Allow me to educate you in its proper use!"

They hovered within a deep valley, exhausted from the stalemate, each holding the other's weapon. "You do not seem to be the expert you would have us believe, Azrael. Give it up, you are no warrior; I have always been able to adapt to any combat form, while you have not," Sparda entreated him. "And what do _you_ know, Sparda? The true power lies not within the warrior, but his weapon." As he spoke, Azrael's scythe was engulfed in a blue flame that begun to travel up Sparda's arm, as the weapon struggled to break free. "You see, even the mightiest warrior is only as powerful as their blade. The weapon and the wielder are connected by a bond deeper than the soul; only those that penetrate this bond can unlock the true power of the devil."[3] Now, the flame had spread almost over Sparda's entire body, and the scythe was thrashing wildly, responding to Azrael's unbidden summons.

Azrael turned his attention to the sword in his hand, and fixed his gaze on the red gem surmounted by the profane sarcoma of the blade. "When this bond is broken, Sparda, you will not have to worry about Mundus conquering the human world; you can be assured that I will reduce it to dust and ashes, with this very sword no less. I will experience power that you did not even know you had, and know you better than you know yourself. Every human you have tried to protect will be delivered to me by your own hand—"

Then, something changed. As the flame threatened to envelop Sparda's head completely, the weapon in his hand ceased to stir. Azrael was no longer basking in his own arrogance, but seemed to be entranced in some inconceivable horror gleaming out of the Sparda's gem. A single, hollow word escaped Sparda's mouth: "**No**." His eyes blazed as the azure flame contracted into a bright singularity and dissolved into his chest. At that moment, a crimson conflagration erupted from the Sparda's gem, launching Azrael against the wall of the valley and creating a huge cloud of fire.

The sword spun its way back towards Sparda, positioning itself to the level of his hand. Almost before it even made contact, Sparda shot towards Azrael, leaving a sonic boom and a trail of indigo and crimson phosphors behind him. He cycled through the forms of both swords until they were voulges. Before the smoke had cleared, Sparda had stingered Azrael to the wall with both swords. The whole scene had looked and felt like a violet comet had entered the atmosphere and collided with the mountain below; a shockwave was sent across the battlefield, rustling the corpses of the slain warriors, and giving even Azrael's comrades reason to brace themselves.

As Sparda let his guard down, he saw Azrael's presumably unconscious body stir. Two dark blades with an appearance that could only be described as solid smoke protruded from Azrael's forearms. Before he knew what was happening, Azrael had slashed his eyes in a cross motion, leaving Sparda temporarily blind. As Azrael teleported away, he left a trail of dark wisps behind him. Sparda could see him take up an offensive position, with both blades in an X formation and electricity surging through his arms. A ball of dark energy began to form at the intersection of the blades, and Sparda braced himself for the impact. Then, at the last moment, Azrael shifted just a few inches and launched the projectile past Sparda and towards Marlene.

Even with his vision still impaired, Sparda knew what had happened. As the trail of darkness silently flew towards Marlene, Sparda disappeared in a flash of speed. He reappeared blurrily in front of Marlene only a split second before the ball made contact. And then, it did. The explosion was totally soundless, and as the darkness billowed and eroded the air around it, Sparda's hooves were driven into the ground. The darkness began to disperse, and Sparda looked around to ascertain Azrael's position. _Where is he? Not even he could move that fast…this is not good_—He was cut off as a dark scythe whizzed past his head, leaving a trail behind it.

"Hmm, looking for someone?" To his horror, Sparda realized that the billowing cloud of darkness had formed into a multitude of Azrael clones, each brandishing multiple variations of his scythe. "And to think that you could have avoided this situation if not for your foolish attachment to that human larva." They all launched their scythes and swords into the air, creating a dome of spinning blades that surrounded Sparda and Marlene. "Si quæris ineluctabilitas mortis, circumspice."[3] The first clone blasted towards them and grabbed his scythe for an attack. No sooner than had Sparda deflected it with his sword, two more clones flanked him. Sparda blocked, changed both weapons into scythes and sliced the clones in half. They turned into four clones, each with their own set of weapons. Soon enough, there were three, five, seven clones attacking Sparda all at once with their shadow blades.

When Sparda begun to think that he could at least support a stalemate by blocking every attack, Azrael himself appeared behind him. He launched forward, grabbed two shadow scythes out of the air, and performed an upward and downward slash simultaneously at Sparda's back. By the time Sparda had turned around, Azrael was above him with three scythes, slashing him thrice and leaving him at a loss to keep up. With each passing slash, Azrael's weapon assumed more solidity and power, and Sparda was worn down further and further. When it came to the last attack, Sparda was in a daze and Azrael's blade was almost as solid as the one that Sparda was holding. With a surge of power, Azrael launched Sparda into the mountain-side, driving him deep into the rock and earth.

Azrael called his true weapon back to his side, and it responded in kind. The edge of the blade began to blaze with a phosphorescent ultraviolet, creating a vacuum in the air around it. As Azrael came down for the fatal blow, with his scythe tearing at the dimensional barrier itself, Sparda remembered Marlene and remembered that he could not leave her.

Just as the blade was about to penetrate his chest, Sparda blocked it with his sword. "**No, Azrael, it will not end here.**" Suddenly, Sparda bolted at Azrael and rammed the hilt of his sword into his chest. Azrael didn't even have a chance to think about another attack before Sparda was slicing him all over. The multiple lacerations on Azrael's body healed and he gritted his teeth in anger. "This is not possible!!! How could scum such as you defy me!?!" Azrael charged with scythe held high, but was suddenly caught off guard as Sparda teleported behind him and slashed again. Azrael turned around to face Sparda but he had teleported once more, this time above him, and kicked him in the face.

"What is the matter Azrael, are you looking for someone?"

"_You are nothing but spittle!! You do not deserve life!!!_" Azrael charged once more but this time, Sparda deflected his weapon completely with his bare hand. Now weaponless, a flurry of close range attacks befell him as Sparda punched and kicked him quickly and precisely. Sparda began to punch Azrael in his chest and face, with light speed, and with a final overhand haymaker, sent Azrael flying backwards. And as he flew backward, Sparda charged once more with his right hand held back, clinched in a fist. He then gave Azrael a devastating spinning uppercut, sending him further upward. And as he went up, Sparda rose above him and extended his right leg, executing a series of cascading sommersaults, blasting Azrael in the chest with a sharp kick, and for one final attack, Sparda charged up his right fist and shot out a flaming red projectile that sent Azrael collapsing to the ground.

In immense pain, Azrael's wounds began healing very slowly this time but the shame and seething hatred that he felt inside was all that concerned him. He looked up at Sparda with disgust and desperate fury and Sparda simply looked down at him in pity. He knew he had been defeated and he knew there was now nothing he could do about it.

Sparda waited for Azrael to regain his composure and attack him, but came to realize that Azrael had accepted his defeat. This brought a sudden calm over Sparda, as he knew that it would take much more effort to actually kill him and he could not risk such a battle with Marlene nearby. He then flew back over to Marlene and picked her up in one arm. "I'm going to take you home now," he said as his gaze remained on Azrael. "I told you that you would pay, Azrael, but fortunately for you, I must protect this human. Count yourself lucky that your life was spared, and your honor stolen, by this 'human larva.'"

Sparda began to fly away as one of Azrael's comrades prepared to go after him. But before he could take off, he was halted by Azrael's voice, "No! Let him be."

"But sire, we can still catch him. Surely, he could not defeat us all."

But Azrael now knew better. He had just experienced something in Sparda he had never seen, and he was ashamed to admit that it terrified him to the core of his being. He knew that Sparda would probably be able to defeat them all, despite their millennia of training and learning, and it drove him mad. "No, let him go. Mundus will reap what he has sown. Let him deal with Sparda now. In either case, the throne will be mine…"

Azrael glared at Sparda until he disappeared from view, and only one thought ran through his mind: _This is not over, Sparda, this is NOT over….._

_

* * *

_

[1] This apparently refers to an account in a text which has yet to be restored. From the notes of "Didymus," it is indicated that Mundus had a hand in the genocide of the clan to which both Sparda and Azrael belong. From the context above, it is apparent that Azrael believes that Sparda was indirectly responsible for this occurrence. The inclusion of such an account in the original manuscript may have been a condemnation of genocidal tactics of conquerors at the time, such as Ivanos Drazgov. ~Ed.

[2] "The world is death's, from the vault of heaven, to the underworld." In some editions, "Ad mortem perpetuam in extremis mundi," or "Mors magna, quattuor cornu Mundi circumscribe." It is clear from the usage here and below, that whoever the true author of the manuscript was, he had very little linguistic expertise. ~Ed.

[3] In the notes on the original manuscript, there follows a short and obscure "magickal" operation which makes copious use of the _ephesia grammata_. The segments that are able to be translated are mainly apotropaic and protective incantations, presumably with respect to whatever process which "Azrael" implies at this point in the manuscript. The only other intelligible phrase in the operation is "Shevarit ha-Kelim." It is this editor's opinion that the process being referred is one of alchemical or qabalistic origin. ~Ed.

[4] "If you seek the inevitability of death, look all about you." In some editions, "Omnes vulnerant, ultima necat," or "Si quæris monumentum ineluctabilitatis mortis, respice finem." ~Ed.


	20. Chapter 19: Judgment

**Chapter 19** _Awake to Justice:__ Judgment_

"My loyal servant, it has begun. Just as I foresaw, he has defied me. He comes to us this very moment. He believes he can save them, but he will fail." The mood in Hell had intensified. An unconscious uprising had begun and the Underworld was growing restless. The smoky obsidian demon knelt before Mundus' statue, his head bowed in reverence to his master. "As my highest ranking general, you shall make sure that he meets his fate. I have other matters to attend to. My army has been fully mobilized, and the human realm sits on the brink of my dominion. I warn you, Alastor, my patience wears thin; Do not fail me…." Mundus' presence withdrew and his voice left a fading echo.

"As you wish, Master…" Alastor disengaged the broadsword from his back and began walking away from the throne, and towards the direction of Sparda. His judgment was nigh….

* * *

Sparda did not hesitate to pick up speed as he drew nearer to the gate. He periodically looked down at Marlene to make sure she was still alright. The vast lands of Hell were now completely barren. No demon could be seen anywhere even in the most remote areas. _Has the invasion begun already? No, not possible, he would not invade the humans' world without me at the forefront unless…_.Sparda stopped mid-flight _unless…. he knows….But that cannot be. Surely, not enough time has passed for him to receive word..._

Sparda spread his wings and began soaring again. He slowed as he neared the white pathway that led to the portal. He landed and began walking, paying close attention to his surroundings. _It is far too quiet._ An electric crackling caught his attention and a figure appeared from the shadows. It was Alastor, standing with sword ready. Sparda gently moved Marlene behind him as he drew his sword as well.

All of Hell stood silent, save for the gusting winds of the portal. Both Sparda and Alastor exchanged steady glances, each remaining motionless. Sparda knew the time for discussion was over. Now, there was only time for action without hesitation.

"Get out of my way, Alastor."

Alastor's words came out raspy yet precise, "You are no longer my commanding officer, General. I fear that I cannot comply with your wishes."

"I will not hesitate to kill you if I must."

"So it seems. Lord Mundus is very anxious about having you done away with. I was sent here to ensure that you will no longer pose a threat to him..."

"Well, then I guess there is no choice to be made. Let us get this over with"

"….However, I am not accustomed to act unless I understand why I must do so…yet….I cannot deny that I see why Mundus would be hold such misgivings." Alastor motioned towards Marlene, hiding behind Sparda's leg. "But alas…I have no quarrel with you, General….Mundus has grown far too comfortable on his throne. I no longer care to do his bidding, for I see it will only contribute to his personal gain and do little to honor our world….I am a subordinate, but I will not become a slave…I never intended to serve under another tyrant."

Sparda was shocked. He always knew there were other demons who felt the same as he did when it came to Mundus, but never had anyone openly talked about it…aside from poor Ifrit of course. "So…your eyes are open as well."

"Yes, they are. Though I do not understand why you have done what you have...why, it seems, you have sided with the humans. It only further perplexes me when I try to contemplate your reasoning. However, I do trust your judgment as I always have, since you recruited me into your army and I witnessed your pride and honor in battle. Your words have always held more power than those of Mundus, and my fealty has never been with one other than you, General."

Sparda was beyond pleased with this. _How many others feel the same way,_ he wondered. "You shall let me pass then?"

"No, I fear that I cannot." Sparda held his sword ready, preparing for Alastor's impending attack, but to his surprise, Alastor made no move. "You will not be able to return through the gate that way. Mundus has stationed nearly half his army at the portal, lying in wait for you."

"Then they shall suffer the same fate as those who have already crossed my path."

"No, it would not be wise, General."

"You don't understand. That is the only way out. I have no choice, I must take the chance."

"But there is another way, one that would afford us less risk in its passage"

"There is another portal?"

"Yes….follow me."

Alastor snapped his sharp wings outward and burst into the air. Sparda waited for a few seconds and contemplated, _the portal is right there…so close…how do I know I can trust him…but Marlene…do I risk such an open battle with her at my side….no I cannot risk it…I have no other choice._ Sparda picked Marlene up and looked her in the eyes. He flew off in the direction of Alastor, faithful that he spoke the truth.

Alastor was able to fly much faster than Sparda, using the power of electricity at his disposal. Sparda struggled to keep up, trying to keep Marlene safe at the same time. Sparda recognized that they were entering the rocky cliffs of Hell, nearing his lands of origin, the lands to which he promised himself and Beowulf, years ago, that he would never return.

As they flew over the land, Alastor halted, "There, the portal is there."

"Here? In the Wastelands? But I do not see it."

Alastor flew downward, leading Sparda directly to the portal. "You see, it is here"

"….but….but how? Mundus did not have the humans erect the tower here."

"That is irrelevant now. Since the opening of the main portal, demonic activity has increased at an accelerated rate throughout the human world, eroding the barrier where it was weak. Our kind has exerted far more influence than you may have thought. This is just one of many portals that opened after Mundus joined the two realms."

Sparda looked through the circular portal and saw a plot of land, an island, through its murky ripples. "I see…alright, I must act quickly. I have to get her back to her world, to safety." Sparda paused for a moment before he stepped through the portal, Alastor followed closely behind.

As he entered the human world once more, the wind chilled Sparda's face. He spotted a grassy area and contemplated leaving Marlene there for the moment. His thoughts were drawn back Alastor. "Join me, brother, we will face Mundus together."

"I am sorry but I cannot. I do not know why you wish to abandon your homeland, and although I am certain it is for a sound reason, I do not share your feelings. I am a devil. My place is in Hell, and there it will always remain."

"But surely Mundus will force you to pay for your transgression…"

"I believe he will not. I have been discreet, he has no knowledge of my actions. You will have nothing to worry about."

Sparda saw a great confidence radiating from Alastor and admired his singular courage. He know that there was no way, or indeed any reason, to convince him to stay. "Thank you, Alastor, this will not be forgotten." Sparda flew down to solid earth and placed Marlene on the ground. He glanced up at Alastor, who looked back at him and gave a small bow.

Then suddenly, Sparda's eyes widened in shock as he saw the triadic red eyes of the Dark Lord appear behind Alastor. He attempted to warn him but he was too late, "Alastor, behind you!--"

Alastor turned and saw the three eyes of Mundus above him, surging with demonic energy. He pulled his sword from his back and readied himself for attack. The entire scene moved in slow motion. Before Alastor could even defend himself, Mundus struck with monstrous power, sending a great beam of white and red light through him, blasting a gigantic hole in the middle of his body. His body was dead almost instantly, as his demonic life energy begain to disperse in an aura around him.[1]

As he fell from the sky, his sword was released from his grip and his body began to glow and break apart; all that was left was his glowing blue soul floating in the air.[2]

"Worthless scum, you chose to defy me as well…If you desire so much to raise your blade to me, I will grant you such a fate."

Suddenly, Alastor's soul was unwillingly forced into his sword, as it planted itself in the ground near Sparda; it vibrated with electric energy until it fell silent. His own sword had now become his permanent prison, a punishment from the Dark Lord himself.[3]

"Mundus…." Sparda spoke in a grunt.

"Sparda…you have finally shown your true allegiance. Your treachery disappoints me." Sparda gnashed his sharp teeth and grew angrier with each moment that passed. "You are not even worthy of my time. I have a world to conquer. Take solace in the fact that you will not live to suffer my reign, and enjoy your slow demise."

As Mundus' eyes faded away, the portal over the island began to rumble. Within seconds the rumbling had stopped and the hissing portal became quiet. Then, out of the portal exploded a plethora of all kinds of demons, some that even Sparda had never seen before; included were Sloths, Gluttonies, Greeds, Wraths, Prides, Vanguards, Abysses, Soul Eaters, and even what remained of the Frost clan. They all charged, pouring out of the portal like a pestilent swarm.

Sparda held his sword at his side and looked at Marlene, "Go." She did not move but instead latched herself back on to his leg.

"No, I don't want to leave you," she screamed in her high pitched voice.

Sparda pushed her away, almost violently, "Go…_Now_!" The tears welled up in her eyes and she ran away, never looking back as she cried.

Sparda turned back to the legions of demons heading his away. He felt remorse for Alastor, who had fallen because he had shared his own view of Mundus. He glared over at Alastor's sword and it seemed to speak to him. Then, without giving it a thought, he took it up and electricity surged through his body. The blade felt hot in his hand and he could feel the rage of Alastor combine with his own. A smile ran across his face as he leaped into the air and flew directly towards the horde. Sparda was now on a collision course with almost half of Mundus' army and with Alastor dead, his only ally was the sword he had left behind. He would face Hell's army, alone….

* * *

[1,2] Both of these sentences appear to indicate that the scribe "Didymus" was grappling with a way to describe the physical and pneumatic compisition of demons and devils. It appears that he creates a bifurcation between the body and "soul" or "energy aura" of a being. Whether this is justified, we have no way of ever knowing. What is clear is that the alien nature of demonic beings is what is being communicated here. ~Ed.

[3] The original manuscript, again, seems to indicate that the demon's soul was _transformed_ into the sword, rather than being trapped inside of it. A note in the original manuscript aslo notes that this punishment is so severe, not because the demon is afforded no freedom of physical movement, but rather that they are at the mercy of the wishes of their wielder, usually a human, which is apparently dishonorable to the warrior ethos of demons. I am sure that this is a reference to the warrior ethos during the time of the manuscript's composition. ~Ed.


	21. Chapter 20: Rebellion

**Chapter 20 **_Awake to Justice:__ Rebellion_

Sparda was now on a collision course with almost half of Hell. Dual wielding his own sword and the sword of Alastor, Sparda was imbued now with more rage than ever before. Electricity covered his entire body, feeding off his anger. As he approached the legions, he readied Alastor's sword and threw it like a boomerang, sending electric surges throughout the masses. As the sword found its way back to his hand, he held it backwards and made a fierce overhand swing, crushing a wave of Hell demons. The portal shook violently as the horde struggled to squeeze their way through hundreds at a time.

It did not take long for the thousands of demons to surround him. But Sparda did not stand and wait for their advances. He charged forward, slicing twenty Abysses in half in one stroke. Demons continued to flow out of the portal and some had even made it past Sparda and landed on the island. _I cannot let any of them stay here, they all must..._

"_Die_!"

Sparda made an upward swing with his sword, causing a sharp ripple to tear through the ranks. He held out Alastor and his sword at the same time and charged once more, trying to get to the portal entrance in hopes of sealing it off and stemming the tide of demons from overwhelming him. But the flow of demons was too strong, their sheer numbers too great. Every time Sparda slaughtered one wave, another followed; once the first line of Prides and Lusts were destroyed, a line of Gluttonies and Envies followed suit. However, Sparda was steadfast in his mission and did not waver in the face of the futility of his endeavor.

Hell Vanguards surrounded him on all sides but were dealt with even before they could vanish. Wraths, carrying large bombs on their backs, hurled themselves at Sparda, exploding on contact. But Sparda remained unscathed. Suddenly, the legions began working together in their efforts; Sloths, now based in sand because of their entry into the human world, teleported along with the Vanguards. Sparda was able to dodge the Vanguards but the Sloths were able to locate him through teleportation and came down with their scythes. Sparda easily blocked the attacks with both swords and used them as scissors to decapitate the Sloths, turning them into unformed sand that dissipated in the wind. Vanguards then began teleporting Greeds to the island so they could release more Hells from their black coffins.

More demons who had found their place on solid earth shot their projectiles at Sparda from below. Alastor electrified itself as a warning and Sparda turned to defend himself but was caught in mid-air by a Soul Eater, which flew further into the sky and prepared to drain Sparda of his demonic energy. However, the Soul Eater quickly exploded as Sparda's power and rage were simply too much to contain. Multiple other Soul Eaters attempted to swarm while Sparda's back was turned but Alastor began sending volts out at them on his own.

Flying down, just above the ground, Sparda deflected the projectiles of Abysses and surviving Frosts. While he was able to defend himself easily using both swords, he was not able to damage to the legion of demons below, due to the sheer number of attacks he was fielding. If he did not do something quickly, this battle would soon become a stalemate. Then he heard the echoes of Alastor in his mind, and he could feel his fallen comrade's power throughout his body. Suddenly, Sparda sheathed his sword on his back and Alastor at his hip. His body was covered with blue electricity as his power grew. He spread his wings and generated more power, sending bolts of electricity down at the hapless demons. He switched his attacks back and forth, sending bolts from his right hand then his left hand, one after the other. The attack cut large swathes through the horde below, decimating the opposing force. The grounded demons burst into flames and disintegrated completely upon impact. Alastor electrified again to warn Sparda and he turned around to send more bolts of electricity through the crowds of demons hovering in the sky.

As the masses continued to flow through the portal they were turned to ashes by Sparda's electrified attacks. With each successive strike, the bolts of lightning grew in power, destroying ten to twenty demons at a time. The entire surface around the portal lit up and crackled with a bright blue haze as the deadly pyrotechnics continued. Eventually, the numberless legions ceased trickling from the portal and Sparda had destroyed nearly 30,000 demons. Tens of thousands more who remained fled back through the portal, while others attempted to continue the assault.

Sparda clamped Alastor over his own sword, combining both their powers into one blade; Sparda's raging red flames joined with Alastor's blazing electricity. The demons had been no match for Sparda to begin with but were now at a serious disadvantage. Sparda's attacks were now almost doubled in power, as he ripped through the remaining legions with ease. Trails of flames and lightning followed Sparda as he attacked with a combination of his hellfire and Alastor's electrical plasma. The demons that were close enough, and actually saw the blasts, were blinded instantly and their sand-based bodies were reduced to pillars of glass that shattered as they hit the earth. Bright explosions burned fiercely as Sparda pounded ranks left and right. He was moving with incredible speed and swiftness and seemed to teleport constantly, leaving dark afterimages in his stead. He struck like a lightning bolt erupting from volcanic fury, zigzagging and tearing through countless demons.

The battle did not last long and Sparda hovered in the sky as the ashes of dead demons rained down upon his horned crown. Loud screams and growls had filled the night air but now it was completely silent and the midnight moon shone brightly in the sky. Sparda took deeps breaths as he tried to regain control over his rage. _Marlene….she's safe now…._

He knew he had to re-enter Hell. He knew had to face Mundus and stop him from launching his invasion. Sparda began to fly back towards the portal but just before he entered a voice spoke to him in his mind.

_No….leave me here…_

Sparda looked around, trying to find who was speaking to him, "Show yourself!"

_It is I, General…Alastor…_

_Alastor? But…_

_Leave me here…do not take me back…._

_But I thought your place was in Hell? That you could never abandon your homeland…_

_Would it that my body were whole again and I was able to assist you from Hell, it would have been an honor. Alas, it is not to be so. Mundus may have taken my life, but he has not taken my spirit. This prison before you will be a blight upon Mundus' kingdom; it will be a mighty sword turning every way to preserve your path. I will not be damned to abide in his presence for eternity. Leave me…_

Sparda was at a loss for words and he felt the pit of his stomach drop. He would act in accordance with his comrade's wishes, although it pained him to do so.

_As you wish…._ Sparda then unclamped Alastor from his sword and held it up. It began to pulsate with electricity and Sparda threw it with incredible force towards the island, plunging it in the ground. _Goodbye….Alastor…._ Sparda lifted his head and turned back toward the portal. His only goal now was to find Mundus and kill him. He blasted through the portal back to Hell…


	22. Chapter 21: Alone

**Chapter 21** _Awake to Justice:__ Alone_

The sky was illumined with a blood red glow. The clouds were dark and thunder issued forth, not because of any storm but because of great strife. Something was occurring in Hell that was rocking the foundation of both worlds. Members of the Resistance stepped out from their underground burrows and cast their gazes up at the tower.

Turbulent winds surged out of the portal and lightning began lashing at the ground below. The humans struggled to maintain their balance.

"Wh-what is it?" A man spoke.

"Anna, what is it? You think they're coming again? Another invasion?"

Anna was calm and clutched at the charm around her neck, "No…"

"Then what is it? It feels as if the very earth is shaking in fear."

Anna did not know exactly what it was but she had a feeling that only a woman's intuition would yield: _He fights for us…._

* * *

Hell was baying. Sparda could feel Mundus, his power, his influence in every crevice, in every corner. He looked down at his homeland, the Wastelands….He remembered his formative experiences there and the resentment he had developed for it. Those memories were so fresh that it seemed like just a century ago. Had it really been that long ago since his birth, since he left his homeland, since he made a name for himself as a true warrior? Melancholy washed over Sparda. Had it been that long ago that he had reared an entire army to take down Argosax? Since he sided with Mundus and followed him so blindly? The memories enraged Sparda. _How could I have been so foolish…_

At that moment, he felt as if his entire life had been a lie, that someone had played a cruel trick on him and used him like a puppet. They had pulled his strings, amused by his dance, and filled his mind with falsehoods, skewing his perspective and bending him to their will. But now that had all come to an end.

Very early in Sparda's life he knew he was destined for something greater than the vain toil of Hell's pitiful hordes; something beyond the darkness, something above the iniquities and the tyranny of a false god, something….transcending the entirety of Underworld itself. For a long time, he thought he had found his calling as a freedom fighter against Argosax, then a general in Hell's army. But now he realized that it had all been an illusion. He had not been following the path of justice but rather had been subject to the sinister machinations of Lord Mundus. That thought burned within him and a scowl was branded on his face.

But everything had changed now. He had turned his back on his own kind, and killed his brethren, not for himself, not for Mundus, but for the humans. An act of defiance indeed. The very thought of his kind disgusted him. He thought of the seven Hell Jailers and the havoc they had rained down upon the human world. It was not until this point that their names held weight to Sparda; Sloth, Gluttony, Greed, Lust, Envy, Wrath, and Pride. With Sparda developing human emotions and learning the difference between good and evil he now knew that their names were not simply handed down to them. They were not simply monikers that could be discarded or exchanged for new aliases. They had meaning and their meaning was the very thing Sparda sought to destroy. These were the sins that allowed the culmination of events that occurred in the human world up to this point. Because the humans had greed, they lusted after power and envied demons. Thus, they erected a tower of darkness in their pride, in order to obtain this power and unleash their wrath. Yes, the names of the Hells had meaning indeed. _What was I thinking? How could I have stood side by side with them…fought with them?_ But he realized that it was because he was not thinking that he had allowed them to prey upon the innocent. He had simply been going through the motions, reacting instead of acting. He knew what he had to do.

"I will rip their names from them as I tear them asunder!"

As Sparda floated through the portal into Hell, he was confronted once more by a wave a demons, a smaller one this time. Only 20,000 strong, it consisted of numerous Soul Eaters, Arachnes, and Blood-Goyles. Although these enemies were relatively weak when attacking alone, collectively their strength was legion.

Soul Eaters, spiritual remnants of the rage of murdered demons, swarmed like locusts, encircling Sparda. The Blood-Goyles did the same, weaving back and forth, creating a mesh of red and turqoise blue colors. Sparda could not see beyond the cloud of demons and was suddenly caught off guard by the tensile gossamer of several Arachnes. His arms were bound at his sides and their webbing squeezed tightly around his body, smothering his armored shell. The Arachnes pulled their threads taut, stretched beyond the breaking point of steel, and they used Sparda to catapult their bloated bodies toward him. However, as the Arachnes with hooked claws approached, Sparda broke free of the deadly cocoon, sending out an energy wave that knocked back all the surrounding demons.

"You all shall die!"

Grasping his sword with both hands, Sparda charged toward one of the masses, ripping through them like a guillotine's incandescent blade through tender flesh. Soul Eaters were usually very conniving demons, entering an incorporeal state, waiting for their prey to turn their back before attacking. In the presence of Sparda, however, their technique was rendered meaningless; He drew them out of their "hiding" with his sheer will and power, and sent their screaming souls to the Abyss.

Blood-Goyles, able to withstand most sword attacks, hovered tauntingly like vultures. They swooped down in a perfect "V" formation as they screeched. Sparda slashed at them but it only split the Goyles into two smaller ones. As he slashed at the others, they did the same.

"Your pathetic tricks are useless!"

Sparda stowed his sword on his back and red energy began to gather around his fist. One Goyle attempted an attack but Sparda grabbed it around the throat, wringing its neck with his fingers, and squeezed. It squirmed and squealed as Sparda held it steady and its fluid neck began to collapse. As the flame around his fist grew more intense, the blood in the Goyles body began to boil and steam. With little effort Sparda ripped its head off with his bare hands, turning its body into stony ashes. As the other Goyles attacked, Sparda used his energy-imbued fists and smashed them into ashes one after the other. As his clawed knuckles met sanguine beaks, they turned to stone and exploded in flashes of crimson steam, spraying rock shards everywhere.

The Arachnes suffered an equally gruesome fate. Sparda severed most of their limbs and they fell helplessly to the ground. Deeming them unworthy even to taste his blade, he took up a clawed leg and ran it through each of the fallen Arachnes, crushing their vital organs as they screamed in agony. The rest he chose to deal with from afar, blasting them with his flaming red projectiles. What few demons remained were badly injured and would die a slow painful death in Sparda's absence.

Suddenly, Sparda caught a glimpse of a blue energy spear, coming in fast, out of the corner of his left eye. He was able to steer clear of the first swing, but was knocked backwards into a decrepit chasm by the second. Regaining his composure, he was able to look up and identify his attacker.

It was the Fallen, dozens of them. Having fallen from grace for lying and deceiving its victims, the Fallen were now only high ranking amongst themselves.[1] They had no honor, and thus were not respected among elite demons.

However, although they were no longer respected, they still maintained their deadly demonic power. Their beautiful white wings could close and form an invincible shield, concealing their only weakness. They hovered with their energy spears ready for Sparda.

"I do not know why you have chosen to show yourselves here, but I assure that you will regret it."

But suddenly, the burrows within the chasm began to glow and out flowed hundreds of slimy worm-like demons. They were Gigapedes; giant creatures with a million legs, able to move through a rift in the time-space fabric, they relentlessly strike down their foes with high voltage attacks. Within seconds, Sparda was in a pool of Gigapedes that floated around aimlessly in the chasm, their mucous-covered appendages rubbing against his body.

"Wretched beasts!"

One quick flash of his sword yielded a terrible screech from one of the Gigapede's. Suddenly, all the Gigapedes began moving rapidly, flowing in and out of the surrounding burrows. With the Fallen hovering above him and Gigapedes swirling about him, Sparda was at a disadvantage. However, this would merely be a test of his might, and only strengthen his resolve further.

The lower halves of the Gigapedes' bodies began to glow with vibrant purple orbs and they all shot out at once, finding their way toward Sparda. But Sparda planted his feet in the ground as he sheathed his sword and stood in a defensive stance. As each orb came down upon Sparda, he guarded them with his forearms in a cross gesture, withstanding the damage they would have done and converting their energy to his own rage. Thousands of orbs littered the sky and acted as homing devices as they swooped down to hit their target. Sparda guarded each one with perfect timing, building up his energy to near its breaking point.

Then, the Gigapedes dove down and rushed Sparda simultaneously. But just before they could land an attack, Sparda jumped mere inches from the ground and released all of his built up energy, sending his body gliding forcibly through the air, making dust and particles of the incoming demons. Bits of segmented limbs and slimy fluids filled the atmosphere as Sparda returned his gaze to the Fallen.

He rebounded off the cascading tentacles and launched himself skyward. Sparda eluded the swinging energy blades and began using them to catch his footing, jumping from one Fallen to another. As he landed on the final Fallen, he brought his legs down hard, driving his hooves into its shoulders, crippling it as it crashed upon the ground. Its wings were tattered and it could not move. Sparda made the killing blow using its own energy sword to pierce it through the chest. The rest of the Fallen descended upon Sparda with their wings enclosing their bodies. Sparda lunged to attack them but was knocked backwards due to their invincible shields.

"Indestructible shields? We shall see…"

Sparda brandished his sword in an offensive stance and released a shockwave as his energy level jumped. The Fallen recoiled in fear and puzzlement. Then their vision split cleanly as their heads were cleaved in twain; Sparda had obliterated their shields. Their detached feathers cascaded upon the ground, as their bisected corpses sprayed a bloody mist upon the battlefield. They had not even seen Sparda move. The silence of the battlefield was broken by the beating of demonic wings above his head. Apparently, one of the Fallen had survived the slaughter. Sparda tilted his head upwards to gaze at the lowly Fallen. He turned on his hooves to stride away and spoke to the empty battlefield: "Only a fool refuses to acknowledge his own death," as the lone Fallen began to slowly slide apart, silently borne upon the wind.

Sparda lifted his body into the air and prepared to bolt to towards Lord Mundus for a final showdown. But something was not right. Sparda paused. He could feel something, but he did not know what. Then his nerves flared and his senses heightened. He could feel them, thousands of them, no, more…._millions_? Ominous rumblings arose in the distance over the horizon. Suddenly, a vast and seemingly endless horde of demons came into view, charging toward Sparda. There were tens of millions of them.[2] _But how? The army I reared barely reached over six hundred thousand…._. Millions charged from the left, millions from the right and an uncountable number followed behind. Then it dawned upon Sparda; during his many long stints in the human world, they had suffered so few casualties, but demons were still produced; Hell's army had increased exponentially.

They flowed like a dark cloud as they marched forward. Deadly sickles and scythes reflected light off the blackness of Hell's walls. Blazing red eyes and energy pulsated furiously from within the masses. They roared and growled mightily as their screams permeated the atmosphere. Sparda could feel the rumbling of their approach like dull footsteps echoing through an empty hallway. His eyes widened in disbelief at the very sight of it. But his shock was short-lived as it was replaced by an unshakable resolve. A smile ran across his face as he unsheathed his sword. This was it, the true test of his will. The repercussions of this battle would resonate throughout Hell's four quarters.

"Come on!" Suddenly, Sparda enveloped himself with a fiery orange energy sphere. Then, telepathically, Sparda produced burning crimson phantoms of his own sword that rotated around the orb with fatal velocity.[3]

The roar of the impossible mass of demons preceded them as they advanced like a devastating tsunami, preparing to engulf the land. As they drew near, Sparda ascended further into the sky and stopped. He reared back on his haunches then dove downward, directly into the center of the surge.

As he made contact, his spinning blades mowed down limitless hordes like a saw blade. He shot the phantom blades outward, clearing space for him to gain his footing within the swarm. Immediately, he was assaulted on all sides by Hells, Goyles, Abysses and the like but his protective shield was impervious to their attacks. He suddenly created another row of phantom swords around the orb, slicing the Hells and Goyles in half, and causing even the Abysses to tremble and flinch as they were hit repeatedly.

Wave after wave was completely decimated, leaving large gaps within the flow of legions. Sparda was now using his sword in conjunction with his phantom swords and protective shield in a devastating combination of unstoppable attacks. His enemies literally hovered in mid air as they were hit repeatedly by his spinning blades. Sparda swerved back and forth, outlining a pathway through the crowds of demons. No demon among the masses was fast enough or strong enough to challenge Sparda; he laid waste to all those in his path with barely a flick of his wrist. It was one demon versus many and ironically, the many were at the receiving end of the massacre.

As he continued to mow down wave after wave of demons, he chose to single out some from the crowd, launching them into the air and hitting them with a series of furious slashes, mincing them into small bits. Then, suddenly, Sparda was caught off guard from behind by a slimy worm demon which latched itself to his protective orb and pushed him downward. The masses hurried in to capitalize, attacking Sparda at the same time that they jumped into the growing pile that surrounded him. A gargantuan heap of demons crowded the center of the fray, and Sparda appeared to have been devoured. But without warning, bright streaks of light broke out from the mass, and demon after demon was suddenly thrust backward violently as forceful waves of energy pulsated outward from Sparda's orb.

"You're going down…"

Sparda was suddenly nowhere to be seen. Then, out of nowhere, his orb and spinning blades came crashing down upon the battlefield, atop a slew of demons, killing them all in an instant. Sparda teleported again and came crashing down once more from above. Over and over, he teleported and attacked from the air, bringing his sword down hard. Small explosions littered the battlefield causing random and mindless chaos. Demons began disappearing in a cloud of their own dust and blood, dozens to hundreds at a time.

"Begone!"

They were completely helpless and could only futilely stand guard before they met their fate. Sparda attacked with a deadly precision and moved throughout the legions like a juggernaut. The entire scene was preposterous. One demon was dismembering and destroying thousands upon ten thousands of demons within minutes. His phantom swords had reached beyond close range ability and stretched far across the battlefield, sending red flames everywhere, channeling the power of the napththalic Phlegethon. It looked as if flash bombs were exploding each time he touched the ground. It was ironic; he had rained down hellfire and brimstone, unleashing Hell upon a legion of demons, leaving none alive.

The battleground lay quiet as he stood in the murky cloud of blood and among demon corpses. There was no one left to fight, no demons to raze, no scythes to rend, no challenge to face. Sparda breathed deeply as he powered down his shield and phantom blades. Although he had just wiped out millions of demons with ease, he felt slightly more fatigued than usual. Had the battle taken its toll on him? He didn't have time to think though; his adrenaline was still pumping, and the tips of his clawed fingers still tingled in anticipation.

"Mundus…"

Then, out of nowhere an incredible beam of icy light shot at Sparda. He dodged with an aerial cartwheel and regained his balance. He looked up to see a disgusting blob, slowly making its way towards him.

Sparda could hear Mundus' voice in his head, "You have not defeated my army yet. You may have overcome the darkness but you will not overcome this nightmare…I will bury your useless corpse below my throne[4] when it is through with you"

The blob continued forward, slowly approaching Sparda and just behind it he could see Mundus' two most faithful servants making headway, Phantom and Griffon…

He held up his sword with one hand, pointing it directly at them, "This may be fun…"

* * *

[1] Lest this description confuse readers, allow me to clarify. Given the context and existing commentaries on this chapter, which are numerous and esoteric indeed, it is indicated that the Fallen had some allegiance or perhaps even their origin with Mundus, along with the Frost and Blade demons. They were said to act either as Mundus' personal guard or as his secret forces before his time as Emperor. They were dishonored in their unscrupulous tactics within other Regencies, such that other Regents as well as Argosax himself has Mundus' special forces disbanded. This is supposedly why the Fallen are disrespected for "deception," and also why the Frosts are quarantined in their own small area; to prevent Mundus from usurping the throne with them. As is customary, I believe that this has some connection to the practices of warlords and despots at the time, violating the canons of war. ~Ed.

[2] The actual term used here is used in the sense of "myriad innumerable demons," rather than describing a discrete quantity. ~Ed.

[3] A note in the original manuscript says that this is a "foreign power." This probably indicates that, consistent with the narrative so far, Sparda attained certain powers instantly through his encounter of them in battle, through a kind of eidetic mimicry. Thus, the phantom swords here are meant to show that during his brief encounter with the character, Azrael, he mastered this technique. The purpose of such embellishments, doubtless, is to convey that Sparda had an absolute natural mastery of all martial forms, even without training.

[4] The author of the manuscripts highlighted this passage, but even he does not seem to know why, which may support the "visionary theory." It seems to indicate that there is some importance on what lies below the throne of Mundus. This may be hinting at the mausoleum or tomb that lies below the throne, but more than likely references the throne as occupying the highest position on the _axis mundi_. I fail to see how this would be relevant in this context however. ~Ed.


	23. Chapter 22: Face to Face Edit Ongoing

**Creator Notice:** Due to time constraints, I, the Editor, have not been able to fully revise this chapter for posting. However, I believe that there has been enough of a delay since the posting of a new chapter such that I am posting this one in its unfinished state. That being said, I will, most likely next week, complete the full revision and replace this chapter with the final version at that time. Thank you for your patience.

* * *

**Chapter 22** _Awake to Justice:__ Face to Face_

Sparda had destroyed over six million demons. He was tired but his mental endurance outweighed his physical fatigue. His body, able to regenerate from even the most severe damage, ached and begged for rest but his soul rejected its pleas. Now he stood face-to-face with two powerful generals and an obscure, mysterious blob of a demon. However, Sparda knew that they were not the only ones left. He was certain that Mundus had prepared many further legions of demons for him to overcome. His extremities were numb, but he could still feel his lifeblood surging through his veins. He would not quit, he would not stop, not until Mundus had paid for his sins. Now was not the time for rest. This was the time for action…[1]

The three demons stood before him, poised and menacing.

"We will rip you limb from limb until you beg for forgiveness," Phantom taunted arrogantly.

Although he had been relatively quiet with his dealings since Mundus took the throne of Hell, Phantom was still a very powerful and high ranking demon in the Dark Army. Phantom resembled a spider but his body was as gargantuan as an elephant's and his shell harder than stone. His blood, when shed, was made of scorching lava, reminiscent of the flaming rivers of Hell. As he walked, he left a trail of fire behind.

"Or better yet, we shall peel the flesh from his bones," Griffon jeered.

"Bah, he's too puny for a routine fleshing. Let's leave it up to this thing…." Phantom said, motioning toward the dark blob, aptly dubbed the Nightmare. Nightmare was a newly created demon or rather, a biotechnological weapon[2], created by the Dark Lord Mundus. It truly had no mind of its own and being the first of its kind, its abilities were unknown to Sparda as well as most other demons. However, stories were told throughout Hell recently of a demon that could manifest the very thoughts of its opponents. It could take a small inkling of an idea or memory and make it into a twisted reality, at least in the minds of its victims. How it conducted this particular feat was still unknown.

"Are you two going to keep talking all day or are you going to die?" Sparda said, becoming agitated with the delay.

Griffon reared back and shot out red electric waves as Phantom gathered a ball of molten lava in his mouth and blasted it toward Sparda. As the waves of energy made contact with Sparda, they dissipated like evaporating water, leaving Sparda unscathed.

"Is that all you have to offer?"

Phantom and Griffon snarled and barked at Sparda, attempting to hide their underlying fear of his power. Suddenly, as if activated from afar, Nightmare shot out beams of energy in rapid succession, one after the other. Sparda deflected most of the beams and charged toward the blob. He made a vertical slice down the middle of the demon but it did no damage as it merely sunk into the amorphous mass. This abomination was more machine than living organism, consisting of a mixture of inorganic substance and loose pieces of cybernetic armor overlaid upon an embryonic core[3]; like a machine, it obeyed the commands of the Dark Emperor and persisted endlessly with disregard to anything else.

Nightmare continued its assault, shooting out thick beams of energy and small projectiles rapidly. Sparda danced back and forth, dodging and deflecting each attack. Phantom and Griffon continued releasing their lava and lightning at Sparda but they were nullified upon contact. Sparda dashed toward Nightmare, attempting to break its hard shell, but his attacks were useless.

"Is this the best you can do, Mundus!?" Sparda screamed toward the sky. "You send a machine to do what you cannot?"

Becoming angered with his failed attempts to damage Nightmare, Sparda dove into the center of the blob and brought his sword down forcefully. However, this attack was voided as well. Suddenly, Nightmare's massive body began to shake and tremble and then, its gel-like mass was a dead pool into whose murky frame Sparda slowly sank. He struggled trying to claw his way out, but the pull was too great. He flapped his wings violently but they were suddenly submerged in the thick pitch along with the lower half of his body. As Sparda continued to fight for extrication, he looked up into the faces of the two generals, Phantom and Griffon. They looked down upon him with scorn as he futilely struggled for his life.

"See you in Hell…" Phantom mused as he and Griffon charged up their attacks once more and blasted them towards the defenseless Sparda. They hit with full impact and shoved Sparda's body completely within the blob known as Nightmare.

And Sparda fell for what seemed like an eternity. Darkness surrounded him, and the wind whistled past his head as his body descended further into the bleak Abyss. He was unable to turn his body and stabilize himself in the thin air. His motor functions were not responding and his body felt as heavy as rock. As he fell, he could hear screams and cries but he did not know whence they came. His body was finally halted by the solid, burning soil. He emerged in a shadowy realm with an atmosphere so slight that it seemed to suck the very air from his lungs. Everything surrounding him was blurry, and he squinted trying to bring objects into focus; _mountainous area, flowing river of souls, fiery underbrush…._

"What is this place?"

Suddenly, Sparda's jaw was met by a clenched fist that came out of nowhere. He collapsed to the ground but rebounded quickly as he jumped to his feet, sword in hand. But as he stood tall there was no one to be found. His eyes wandered over the murky atmosphere, trying to identify his attacker.

"Show yourself!"

**_I'm right here…. _**

**_Over here…_**

The words seemed to drift in and out of reality, softer than a whisper, as the voice taunted Sparda.

**_You are no longer worthy, traitor_**

**_You will not win this_**

**_Foul scum…I will overcome you _**

**_I will make you nothing… _**

**_Here….you shall end!!_**

Sparda was suddenly attacked from all sides. Slash after slash ripped through his body as he was still unable to make out his attackers. They seemed to drift in and out of reality, something beyond Sparda's comprehension. _How are they this fast? Impossible…_he thought. Repeatedly assaulted from all sides once more, his knees began to buckle as he tried to steady his sword.

"Show yourself you coward!"

**_What's wrong, can't keep up…._**

Gritting his razor sharp teeth, Sparda breathed in and gathered himself, trying to concentrate. He closed his eyes and held out his sword without so much as flinching. He focused his thoughts and honed his mind on his attackers as the beckoning screams in the darkness died down. He could feel him, his power…_B__ut where are the others_….Then it dawned on him; there was only one assailant, not many….._B__ut how?_…

Then, without warning, the attacker came in fast, with his blade aimed directly at Sparda's thorax. But Sparda sensed his approach and guarded the attack with ease. The two stood sword-to-sword, neither giving way ground to the other. Then Sparda's gaze rose up to the face of his attacker, and his eyes widened in horror and disbelief.

Expecting to see the face of some sludge-like or ghostly demon, Sparda saw a face that was only too familiar to him, and his body suddenly fell cold. He had seen this demon before, in the crystal clear flowing waters of the human world, in the windows of its monasteries, and in the reflection of his very blade as it gleamed with the blood of innocents; It _was_ Sparda. As if peering through a mirror darkly, Sparda saw into his own face reflected in the gloom. However, its expression was not one of righteousness but one of merciless reckoning.[2]

**_Don't look so surprised…you knew you'd have to face me sooner or later. It's best we end it now rather than delay the inevitable._**

"…Who are you?"

**_You know who I am…._**

Suddenly, the demon was gone, faster than Sparda could blink; it was not that it had teleported or disappeared, it was as if it had never been there at all. Sparda held his sword in front of him as he moved around in a circle. The demon continued to taunt him from the darkness.

**_Ohh..so I see you've forgotten me…and so soon I might add. However, contrary to what you may want to believe, I am alive and well…Surely, you did not think you could get rid of me so easily. After all, wherever you go, there I am…_**_**waiting in the shadows**._ [4]

The demon came in from nowhere once more, full bore, and knocked Sparda to the ground.

"I do not know who you are, but whatever business you have with me, it will end right here."

**_Oh, you know who I am alright…Don't pretend to be stupid now, not after all of the scheming against Hell. You know damned well who I am and why I am here…Look at your face, those horns, those wings…I am you…or rather…I am what you truly are!_**

The demon charged in once more, appearing from thin air, kicking Sparda back down to the ground. But as Sparda looked up, the demon had disappeared once more. _How is he doing this…I can't track his movements…_Sparda thought.

**_Did you honestly believe that your rebellion would go uncontested? Did you really think that you could just 'see the light' and everything would change just like that? Hahaha! You think that your past sins are somehow forgiven, that you have awakened to justice? No, you are just a foolish child throwing a tantrum, unable to accept the brutal reality of the world. Well, now you are in MY world, I will not let you shut us away…._** 6

Gliding back in at high speed, the demon hit Sparda with a flurry of kicks and punches. He was the spitting image of Sparda down to every detail, from the angle of his eyes to the creases in his armor, the resemblance was beyond uncanny. Sparda attempted to fight back, moving swiftly and quickly, but all his attacks hit the air as he appeared to be fighting a being that was not there.

"Why do you not show yourself? Are you so cowardly that you must hide in the shadows?"

**_Hahaha….hide? I do not hide. My apologies if you are too slow to track my movements._**

The demon continued his onslaught, seeming to drift in and out of time itself. His movements were so unreal, only the deranged mind of psychotic child could comprehend them.

Becoming frustrated, Sparda concentrated once more. _How is he doing this....who is he?_

**_I already told you who I was. Are you so absent minded? And I thought we were supposed to be one of the intelligent ones…_**

Sparda was taken aback by the comment. _He can read my thoughts…_

**_Haha, your thoughts? No...my thoughts. Your thoughts are mine as are your power and abilities; I have allowed you to borrow them until now, but make not mistake, they belong to me. We are one, yet I am two, you are me, and I am you, hahaha…we are inseparable…_**

Then it finally began to sink into Sparda's mind. The picture started to become clearer and the pit of his abdomen sunk in despair. _He isn't real…But how? He feels and looks real…how can this be?_

**_Well…it's very simple you see…I am what you are trying to destroy. I am the very thing which you have chosen rebel against. I am a monument to all your sins…of what you were and what is still very much alive inside of cannot rid yourself of your past….I will haunt your dreams for eternity if I must; I am more real than you will ever be. I WILL kill you and there is nothing you can do about it. _**

_**There is only room for one Sparda, one conqueror.**_[4] _**Have you forgotten your aspirations? Your dreams? Have you forgotten your destiny? I have not. We have been destined for greatness since our birth, and nothing will stand in our way. We became General to Hell's army and the second highest ranked demon in all of Hell**._**_ Now is the time we prove we are the highest of the highest rank, the elite among elites, the King of Kings…We will take the throne from Mundus and become what we were born to be…I will do this with or without your consent. _**

**_My word is law and you have defied me for the last time. How dare you consider the opinion of a human above mine? You are a disgrace to the demon race... You are no longer worthy to exist, because you have forsaken your very soul. After the throne is mine, the human world will be set ablaze for its arrogance; I will not stop until all that is living becomes ash….and my will shall be done!_**

He appeared before Sparda once more. Sparda recoiled, contracting his muscles, preparing for another attack, but the demon simply stood and peered into his eyes, burning a whole right through him.

**_You truly have forgotten haven't you?_**

"Forgotten what?"

**_Well, since you choose to remain ignorant, let me remind you who you really are._**

The demon began running towards Sparda at top speed. Sparda held his sword ready to guard but the demon began running faster, not attempting to attack Sparda. As they collided, the demon vanished, as black and red smoke encompassed Sparda. Sparda then heard faint whispers in his head once more, incoherent at first.

Then, sudden images began to flash in Sparda's mind. At first he could not make them out but slowly, he began to recognize them. The images continued to flash, over and over maddeningly. Sparda clasped his head in his palms attempting to suppress the blurry images. What he saw was darker than anything he had faced before….It was himself, covered in blood, the blood of humans, innocent beings, from head to toe, standing atop a pile of dead bodies.

He remembered the image, as clear as it appeared before him. Another imaged flashed of him slaughtering countless more humans; men, women as well as children fell before his blade, and he seemed to revel in his brutality. More images flashed of Sparda bursting into homes, killing all inside and burning them to the ground without hesitation. Horror and disgust overwhelmed him as the images persisted.

**_Do you see now?…this is you…who you are meant to be, who you really are…Since the opening of the portal you have drawn ever closer to our ultimate goal…Look at those pathetic beings as they cower before us…_**

"No…I…." Sparda's words and thoughts were broken. His mind was becoming more clouded and flooded with memories of his very recent past. Millions upon millions of humans died at his hands. His rage, the diabolical beast within him was thrashing to get free. It hardened Sparda's heart to see what he had done. "I…I didn't mean…I didn't…know…" Regret and sorrow continued to overwhelm him.

**_Now you know. You cannot escape your past. Your rebellion is futile._**

The images continued to flash at a much faster rate. They appeared before Sparda's eyes and seemed to rip at his very mind; it felt as if it would split into two and it drove him mad.

"No…stop!"

**_You are a devil, a monster. Do not deny who you are!_**

"No…I…I can't….that's not.." Sparda began losing his energy as he fell to his knees.

**_This is who you are meant to be. Accept it. No matter what you do you will never change the devil that dwells within you._**

Sparda's mind was racing as the images persisted still, blinding his mind's eye. It was not the physical pain his attacker was dealing that hurt him, but the memories of his former self, the purveyor of evil and destruction. His acts, his transgressions, tore at his soul. Darkness began to envelope him entirely. He was slowly being sucked into the dark abyss drawing nearer to the beast he had caged and forsaken. He could feel the rage, the evil, the unending tyranny. He could feel the power, seemingly limitless power, and he was ashamed to acknowledge that he enjoyed it.

And Sparda descended once again into the dark caves of his past, he could feel his former self taking hold of him, embracing him in its dark flame.

**_Yes, that's it…bask in the glory of our power…give into to it…_**

This was it. Sparda was almost at the breaking point. He was surrounded by this power and his dark heart pulsated uneasily, trying to grab hold of it. Sparda was about to forsake all he had fought for, all he chosen to defend. He was about to relapse back into the darkness of Hell and his will began to wane under the pressure of his own power.

But then something happened. Falling within the pit of his mind, Sparda saw something, a little girl. On closer inspection he realized that it was Marlene, appearing more distraught than when the demons took her parents from her. Her angelic face, her innocent smile, was suddenly engulfed in flames as she screamed in agony.

"No! Marlene!" Sparda yelled as he tried to reach her but she was too far away and his arms felt too heavy. "No!"

Marlene was incinerated before his very eyes and even after she was dead, her screams still bounced off the walls within the pit. Then another human appeared, and another. Sparda recognized each face because he had kept a mental record during his travels to the human world. They were the humans of the Resistance, glaring down at Sparda as he fell. He recognized one man, a man he had seen with Anna before they first met. His name was Abel and behind him stood another man, a man Sparda had killed that night, Brutus. He stood bloodied and beaten from battle. Then, just like with Marlene they were suddenly engulfed in flames, each and every one, screaming and howling in pain and agony.

**_Yes. Forget about them. They are nothing. They are weak._**

"Ahh!" Sparda attempted to reach them once more but his attempts were useless. "No! Stop this!"

Then another human appeared, a woman, Anna. She was wearing the same dress she wore when they first met. And in her arms was a baby, her baby, Abel's baby. She smiled at Sparda as he descended deeper, a smile he had grown accustomed to. The baby giggled, attempting to mimic its mother.

**_And forget her…she is a human…a useless being….nothing more. What can she offer you that I cannot? Love, compassion, justice? All lies created by humans…_**

"No! Not her!" Sparda could see the flames behind Anna, stretching towards her like claws seeking its prey. "No!"

And the flames began to tickle at her dress and creep up her leg, setting her ablaze. As the cloth became black and began to smoke, she seemed to cry out in pain. Soon, her lower body and torso was a fireball, with her burning fat releasing a thick, tar-like smoke into the air. She screamed as she tried to protect her baby but there was nothing she could do. As the flames reached her head, she collapsed clawing frantically at her face and eyes, praying for death. The baby was engulfed as well. Sparda could see its skin redden, and melt and weep with pus and plasma, as its wails became unbearable; to this day, Sparda has never forgotten its inhuman baying. He watched as the baby was charred and blackened before his very eyes; there was nothing left but the smoldering ashes and bones and the greasy smell of burning flesh.

"Aagh! No! Stop!" Sparda was utterly helpless. His body was not responding and there was nothing he could do to save her.

**_Hahaha. Do you see now? They are pathetic. Unworthy of our power. Tell me, what do they have that I do not…_**

Sparda was helpless yet his mind began coming back to him and for a split second, his thoughts were clear. He remembered his mission, and the road he decided to take. His courage and might began to build again. He would not let him take it all away.

"What she has…is a heart…what she has is courage. She has something that you will never have…a righteous soul!"

Regaining his strength, Sparda stopped himself in mid-descent and was suddenly back in the shadowy realm, staring into the eyes of his counter, his dark side.

**_A righteous soul? That means nothing me…_**

"I know, and that is why you can never defeat me"

Becoming frustrated, the demon attacked Sparda head-on. However this time, it was the demons attack that hit thin air as Sparda disappeared.

"Now I finally understand why the humans loathe our kind so… And why we could never conquer them entirely."

**_What are you talking about?_**

"The human spirit is strong. Their will is undying. They understand the importance of unity. Even in their darkest days, they have hope. And this is why all demons shall be overcome by the blinding light of their proud spirit!"

Suddenly Sparda rushed in, his sword held out at his side. The demon turned to slice him vertically but it was too late. An intensely sharp flash shot straight across the abdomen of the demon.

"And you shall be overcome as well."

**_No…you…you can't beat me…_**

"I already have. Stay as you are, in my memories…" And Sparda turned from the demon and walked away.

**_No…you can never forget me. Every time you look in a mirror, ever time you turn your head, every time you even have a thought, I will be there, lurking in your shadow.. __I am closer than the blood coursing through your veins. Every time you falter or stumble, or doubt, or hesitate, or succumb to temptation, I will be there watching, waiting for you to fail. When that day comes, your past sins will be nothing compared to the havoc that I will unleash upon mankind. You will wish that you had never awakened, that you had never known justice at all_, _because your awakening will only afford me a more terrible power__. You will never destroy me. You can only hope to suppress me until I finally take full control, and make no mistake, that day will come. If it takes a thousand eons, you will give in, no one can resist forever…but __I__ will haunt you for all eternity!_** 9

The demons body was suddenly broken in pieces by incredible light, its shards dissipating in wind. And the ground beneath Sparda's cloven hooves began to shake and the entire area crumbled, turning into a gigantic flaming gorge. And then there was blackness, utter blackness and Sparda could feel his body pulled violently skyward. Above him he could see a small crease of light as he ascended towards it at lightning speed. And he exploded out of the blob, Nightmare, forcefully landing back on solid ground. He turned to look back at the blob, which began to pulsate and shake out of control. Gels and fluid substances spewed out of it like a geyser as its body broke apart; its hard armor slowly crumbled and sunk inward. Then suddenly, it caved in on itself and imploded, creating a flash of blue and white light that expanded outward then shrunk down to nothing. The horror known as Nightmare was no more.

Sparda shook his head dorwsily as if trying to awake from a horrible dream. Within seconds, his mind was clear once more and he surveyed the empty battlefield. Suddenly Sparda could feel something coming in over his shoulder. Faster than the eye could see, the poison tipped tail of Phantom, the spider scorpion hybrid, was caught in between the two clawed fingers of Sparda. The stinger had come dangerously close to the back of Sparda's head.

"Are you so cowardly, General, that you must attack me from behind?" Sparda turned toward Phantom, still holding the tip of its tail with his two fingers.

"Release me!"

Then, another attack came in from behind Sparda. The red lighting orbs did nothing but bounce around Sparda's body and hit Phantom, dead in his six eyes. Phantom cried out in pain as his body convulsed.

"So, I see you are both in the business of cowardice" Sparda said as he looked over his shoulder at Griffon, who hovered in the air. "Since you two have so much in common, why I don't I let you spend some time together…"

Suddenly, Sparda grabbed Phantoms tail with both of his hands. "What are you doing?" Phantom screamed. He began swinging Phantom around in a circle, gaining more momentum with each revolution. "Let go of me!"

"As you wish." Then Sparda released Phantom, sending him hurling toward Griffon. Griffon tried to dodge but he was too slow. Phantom's body crashed hard into Griffon's and they both went sailing off wildly into the darkness as their screams faded away.

The battle ground was quiet and Sparda was filled with a renewed spirit and a restored resolve. He was not sure that what had happened inside of Nightmare was real or a figment of his imagination but he was certain that he had now found his true mission and he would he turn away from it even for a moment. The event had spurred a new hope, and a stronger determination within him. And he would need it, if he was to face the Darkness Mundus.

And with those thoughts, the three blazing red eyes of Mundus appeared in the sky.

"You have done well Sparda; you have destroyed eleven legions of my army, defeated three of my generals, and have laid waste to much of my Empire... You have done very well indeed. However, your many victories will only make your ultimate defeat that much more glorious." Sparda could make out the silhouette of Mundus' huge body, his true body. "Shall we commence?"

Sparda looked around and realized that he was standing in the Room of the Fallen Ones,10 the same place where the Battle of Argosax began. Then, it was know as the Blood Plain, filled with the flowing blood rivers of Hell. Now, the Room of the Fallen Ones, it housed the statues of all those who fell for Mundus that day.

"You choose to end this here? It seems you are not without a sense of irony, Mundus." Sparda responded.

"Yes, perhaps…it is ironic that this day will end with my victory once again."

Sparda did not respond with words, but a smirk of unyielding purpose and confidence flashed across his face.

And the two devils, the most powerful in all of Hell, headed for each other. The Darkness Mundus versus the righteous Sparda, the fate of both worlds now rested on this very battle. And all of Hell fell silent…

* * *

[1] It is of interest to note that, every instance of the word "time" translated following the "awakening event" is in the Greek manuscript as "kairos" rather than the customary "chronos." In this particular instance, however, "kairos tou poiesai to kriokephalo to poinikoaeno," the original manuscript includes a labarum like monogram XPc (Chi-Rho-sigma, phonetically Kai-Rho-S) instead of the word "kairos." In the margins, one can just make out the faint scribbling of a permutation of the word as "kraistos." The sigma and tau forming another kind of monogram which my colleague Dr. Musa Ibn-Amir tells me resembles similar monograms used by the obscure cult of Naasene Zurvanites for their Messiah figure. This blasphemous insinuation is certainly why we find all reference to this peculiarity expunged from the Vatican copy of the text. Whatever the actual case, it is apparent that the period of time immediately after the awakening event was deemed pivotal for this mythological account of human history. ~Ed. with thanks to Dr. Ibn-Amir

[2] Although at first glance, this appears to be a prognostication of war tanks used in the modern era, and lends credence to the "visionary theory" for the provenance of the text, I believe that this is merely a coincidence. In my estimation, it appears that all of the references to "Mundus'" biothecnological modifications and creations of new species of demons, such as the "Frosts" and "Blades," serves to highlight the unnatural force of Mundus' reign. By emphasizing that the antagonist's methods are contrary to the natural order of things, "Didymus" may have been criticizing the methods of tyrant rulers of the time, who people felt had seized power rather than inherited it rightfully. Certainly, one cannot ignore the similarities to Ivanos "the Terrible" Drazgov. ~Ed.

[3] From the commentary by pseudo-Ivanos, purported to have been written by the character "Ivan" described in the text: "These beasts seem to have been adapted from [indigenous] possibly pre-demonic, beings. The ability to [...] and psychoactive properties appear native to the demon. Weaponization [and control] appear to be the [primary] purposes of their augmentation [...] their armor incorporates both highly advanced energy transfer technology as well as comprehensive neurological [...] This integration into the neurology of the [host organism] appears to be heuristic, so the armor could theoretically be applied to any other [...] I wonder how it would respond to human neurology[...]" ~Ed.


	24. Chapter 23: Hail to the King

**Chapter 23** _Awake to Justice:__ Hail to the King_

A brilliant flash of light surged from Mundus' fist as he flew full force toward Sparda. Bolting toward Mundus, Sparda drew his sword parallel to the ground as red flames poured from his blade. They headed toward each other seemingly in slow motion; the greatest duel Hell had ever seen was about to commence. Sparda's sword and Mundus' fist connected with such force that a crater formed beneath the demons, quickly filling itself back up with blood. Sparda and Mundus stopped, realizing that they had exchanged positions.

Both turned at the same time, and stared into each others' eyes. Neither of them even breathed, not a muscle moved in either body, as both waited for the other to make a move. Mundus clenched his fist, small pieces of loose stone cracked and fell off. Sparda tightened his grip on his sword.

With lightning speed, Sparda's wings snapped and he flew into Hell's murky sky. Mundus' eyes flashed and red arrows flew at Sparda. Deflecting the arrows, knocking them to the ground, Sparda was set on Mundus. The Dark Emperor chuckled and glided backward, dissolving into nothingness amidst the gloom.

"What's wrong! Afraid to face me, Mundus!?"

"I hate to admit it now..." Mundus' words echoed from nowhere, "...but I had such faith in you, Sparda...you were my diamond in the rough..."[1]

A stone pillar shot from the ground, cutting Sparda's skin across the shoulder blade. Mundus re-appeared and kicked Sparda to the ground, and disappeared into the darkness once more. "You were grimy, uncouth, outwardly worthless, but I saw that your true value was beyond even my reckoning, and I sought to uncover it. You were more than just a puppet on a string, slave to my whims, you were to be my masterpiece. There was always something different about you; you had ... "[2]

"A soul,"[3] Sparda said staggering upward...

"Hahaha, a soul?! It seems your time with the humans has not only made you weak in body, but also in mind!" Mundus's laughter bellowed out of the darkness. "Do you truly believe that a simple rebellion makes you like them? Just glance at your reflection below and see how 'human' you are! Demons struggle amongst themselves ceaselessly for little reason at all; it is in your nature to do so. If you think that one act of treachery grants you this 'soul,' then you are indeed deluded! The 'soul' is nothing more than a superstitious illusion created in the face of the bleak, pathetic reality of human existence: that there is truly no hope for them! I assure you, young Sparda, humans are made of nothing but frail flesh and blood, and in the end they are nothing but dust and bone before us." Another melee attack resulted in Sparda being knocked into a statue of a "Fallen One."[4] Sparda landed on his feet and cleared away the debris of the crumbling Abyss statue with his sword.

"What is it you seek? To purge the darkness from the 'light' of the universe? The Light cannot exist without the Darkness to define it.[5] Even if you did succeed in destroying Hell, you would remain a lone shadow within the human world, a blemish on the very purity you strove to create. Give up this futility!" A beam of light erupted from Mundus' palm. Sparda rolled away in time to see the Abyss statue burst into flames.

Melee attacks hit Sparda from all directions at once as he began to show his weariness from fighting, falling to one knee, but refusing to accept defeat. Fatigue washed over him, as did pain, fear, and hate; hate for everything he had done, and the impossibility of making it right. But most of all, hate for the one who had plucked his strings and watched him dance: Mundus. The hatred rested deep within his soul, the thing Mundus did not believe in, the thing Sparda had once not believed in.

"All so suddenly, you hate your own kind and take up the mantle of humanity? I did not think this kind of treachery possible for you. Why? Why do hate those who actually act on the will to power? Is it not proper that we seize what is within our grasp?"

Sparda raised his brow sardonically, "Spare me another 'I am better than Argosax' speech, Mundus, I grow weary of your arrogance..."

"Ha! That useless wretch?! No, naive Sparda...I speak of One whose teachings give the pathetic, ignorant fleshlings hope. A hope that you can be sure He will not deliver on."

Sparda looked at Mundus as his puzzlement mingled with dazed hallucinations. "Does it come as a surprise? Did you really think it was so simple as humans and demons? I should expect nothing more. How could I have thought so highly of you..."

Mundus blurred in and out of focus before Sparda's eyes. This was not how the Fight for Humanity was supposed play out...this was a battle of willpower in which Sparda was being seriously undermined. Sparda loomed ever closer to the edge of complete physical and mental collapse as Mundus continued his admonishment.

"_Most_ of the beings in this realm worship the King. Those few peons that disobey are made to lay low. You know that it is no different in their realm. Here, my word is law, but there...a disgusting communal effort, a few simple rules, and no law for their King is silent. I seek only to bring order to their world.[6] But tell me, who do you think is responsible for such chaos in the first place?"

_Another being...?_ Sparda thought...

"Oh yes, young Sparda, of course there is another. Do you know what He is, though? A Watcher, just as hopelessly gluttonous as Argosax was. While His people literally burned in His world, dying deaths that give even a demon pause, what did He do? NOTHING!

If the Creator of All Things will do nothing to help his own shining kingdom, what makes you believe that _you_, a demon with a heart of darkness and evil dripping from his pores, can do a thing to stop me?"[7]

Sparda's mind raced. _Another being….but who…how…I sensed nothing in the human realm…is this just one of Mundus' tricks?_ Sparda did not know what to make of this newfound information and it only deepened his confusion and further separated him from the battle at hand. _I must remain focused._

"I do not know if what you speak of is true, Mundus, but it does not matter. All that matters is here and now. And now, I will defeat you once and for all; here is your final resting place, amongst those who have fallen before you. This is where you _die_!"

Sparda leapt from the ground and made beeline towards Mundus. _Fool…_Mundus thought to himself. Dodging the incoming attack with ease, Mundus clasped his stone hands around Sparda's abdomen and squeezed tightly. His grip was so strong that it almost caused Sparda to drop his blade.

"Tell me, Sparda, how did you think this pathetic rebellion would end? Surely, you were aware that your failure was inevitable. Do you even believe in what you are doing? Do you understand what it all means? Or are you, once again, being twisted and guided by the machinations of another? That….woman, Anna….."

"You do not deserve to speak her name!"

"Haha, and why not? After I dispose of you, I will burn her entire world to the ground, and let the sarcophages feed on her corpse."

"That will never happen."

"Oh really? Who is going to stop me? You?"

"I will."

"No, Sparda, you are mistaken; you will find it difficult to oppose me from the grave!" Mundus tightened his grip around Sparda's waist, surely rupturing some internal organs; though they would heal in seconds, the experience was excruciating nevertheless. Sparda writhed in pain as Mundus threw his body back to the ground. Before Sparda could regain his composure and vision, Mundus had disappeared once again.

"After I kill you Sparda, I will re-dedicate this room to your death. And your epitaph will read, 'Here lies Sparda, the traitorous fool. He died, in vain and with no honor, for things beyond his understanding. May all demons spit on his grave.'"

Then, without warning, the many statues surrounding Sparda sprung to life, with glowing red eyes under the power of Mundus. Sparda was surrounded on all sides by the living statues of Abysses, Shadows, Hells, Frosts, and the ever so dangerous Vanguards.

"As always, you send others to do your bidding. Have you no integrity?"

"And what do you know of integrity? My loyalty has always remained with Hell and its denizens. You may not have agreed with my methods, Sparda, but you cannot deny their efficacy. For the first time in our history, the human realm is within our grasp, and I will hold both worlds in the palm of my hand. But you, however, have no loyalty to Hell, your own kind, or even yourself. You ravage the human world, slaughter them like livestock without a thought, and then you turn on your own brethren. Even the dullest of fools would distrust you, a traitor to both your cause and your heritage. You would be doomed wander both realms forever as an outcast…but I shall grant you reprieve!"

Then, as Mundus towered in the background, each statue descended upon Sparda with ferocious intensity. Sparda attempted to slay them just as he had millions a mere few hours ago. But to his dismay, their strength was more than triple what it had been before, and their skill had quadrupled. Their stone structure was more than just brittle rock; it acted as a near adamantine body armor, infused with Mundus' power, that repelled Sparda's long range projectiles. _What….how can this be….I cannot be out of energy…they cannot be this strong…_

"No, Sparda, this is not an illusion. However, if you still doubt my power, then allow me enlighten you once again."

Suddenly, in a burst of raw power, the statues erupted with energy and began emitting a wispy purple aura and seemed to increase in strength. Sparda, overwhelmed by fatigue, braced his body and gritted his sharp teeth. The living statues assaulted Sparda, attacking from all angles, each with its own unique fighting style and abilities. The Frosts used their agility to out-maneuver Sparda, while the usually unintelligent Hell Jailers relentlessly attacked in strategic formations. For the time being, Sparda managed to fend them off but they gained ground with each wave and slowly began to suffocate him.

Sparda's flawless defense began to wane with each passing second, as his body was met with uninterrupted attacks, slowly counter-acting his healing factor. And as Sparda stood in the center of his sanguine graveyard with a battered and bruised body, he started to doubt himself and his cause. Falling to one knee, with his sword planted in the ground, Sparda continued to take the fierce beating, while his previously immutable resolve began to whittle away. With shards and blades embedded in his chest, neck, and back, Sparda prepared himself for his imminent defeat. Never would he have thought that his life would end this way; everything he had worked for, strove to accomplish, his awakening, all for naught.

"Goodbye, young Sparda" Mundus murmured as he looked down at the slaughter.

And all hope seemed lost….Mundus had won….

But not yet. As Sparda lay beneath the pile of the demon onslaught, his body torn beyond recognition, an ember was ignited within his subconscious mind. Like a treacherous, deadly whisper, a voice called to Sparda. **_You see, you cannot do this on your own. You need me…accept it._** Sparda knew this voice and he recognized its tone. He was being confronted once more by the evil that dwelled within him. **_This is not how or where you die. You know this. Now get up!_**

And all of Sparda's higher intelligence and his soul told him to reject the voice, to deny the devil within. But Sparda's basest instincts and warrior ethic said otherwise. His waning will to live was overcome by a will to power, a raging desire that suffused his body and mind as it screamed for vengeance and carnage. Sparda lay motionless and prone on the ground, as his body continued to be pummeled. All he could do physically was move his eyes, and glanced up, he saw the face of Mundus in the distance, looking down on him as he had for so much of his life; looking down on him as if Sparda was not worthy of looking him in the eyes.

All Sparda could think about was his hatred and disdain for him, and his growing anger and resentment that had started so long ago when Mundus took the throne of Hell. Unlike all other demons, he had never feared Mundus and had always felt that his power was far greater than his. _I…I have always been stronger _**_than you….you do not deserve the throne…_**Sparda thought as he slowly began to get sucked into his thoughts, his darkness. **_You do not deserve your power!_**

Then something began to happen. In the most unlikely of events, Sparda had given in to his own occult power and it raged over his body like a thunderstorm. **_I will show you what true power is! I will claim what is rightfully mine!_** Suddenly, all of Sparda wounds healed instantly and he rose to his feet with sword in hand, as a red sphere of energy surrounded his body. With one roar, a burst of fiery energy exploded outwards and shattered the stone armor of the surrounding demons. Now standing defenseless, the demons stood no chance of making it out alive; they were slain by Sparda in a blink of an eye, as trails of flames were left in his wake.

Perplexed and taken aback, Mundus quickly gathered himself. "You have more fight in you than I thought, young—"

Sparda stared Mundus dead in the eyes with a cold gaze of death. His muscles tensed up and not even his wings so much as flinched. "**You will not forget this devil's power, Mundus! You are not worthy as my opponent!**"

The comment seemed to catch Mundus off guard, but before he could even think about it, Sparda was on him like a hawk on its prey. Sparda seemed to have regained all of his strength and was moving faster than ever before. He first attacked Mundus head-on, slicing him directly through his third eye. He then came from behind, tearing at Mundus' wings. Then Sparda attacked from the side, hitting Mundus hard with a ball of red energy. The entire assault took Mundus by surprise as he was not fast enough to defend himself.

Becoming annoyed with Sparda's attacks, Mundus resumed his psychological warfare against Sparda once more. "Is that it? Is this your so-called 'power'?" But his words fell on deaf ears and Sparda attacked like a stone cold killer, his bloodlust rendering him oblivious to, or unconcerned with, his surroundings. Mundus soon realized that Sparda's attacks were actually damaging him, and it began to dawn on him that he might actually lose this fight if Sparda's state did not subside soon. But his pride overcame him and he refused to concede. "This is nothing more than child's play!"

Suddenly, Mundus spread his wings and floated backwards, sucking out all the light surrounding both he and Sparda, leaving them in a space0like void. Then as he hovered in the distance, he began launching meteors made of light and stone at Sparda. Sparda remained steadfast and repelled the stones as each successive wave became larger and faster.

"You will never win!" Mundus taunted as meteors began to come at Sparda from all sides. But to Mundus' surprise, not one stone had so much as grazed Sparda. Becoming frustrated, Mundus intensified his attacks, shooting out beams of white light and red energy spears at Sparda along with his meteorites. The attack would have killed millions of demons at once but it did nothing to Sparda. He remained still and deflected each attack as if it was nothing. Mundus began to breathe deeply but tried to conceal any signs of weakness. The attacks had stopped and both demons glared at one another. For the first time in Mundus' life he was unsure of himself and that thought of uncertainty terrified him. But he hid his terror with arrogance and pride.

"It is not too late for you Sparda. I will allow you to come back. You can still serve me."

Disregarding the comment, Sparda spoke, "**Are you done yet?**" The question was met with silence. "**Well, I guess it's my turn then…**"

Before Mundus could blink, Sparda was charging toward him with his sword cocked back and his body surrounded by his protective orb.

Mundus prepared himself for the impact, but right before Sparda made contact, he vanished without a trace. Mundus appeared confused as the battlefield fell silent and still, as Sparda was nowhere in sight. Mundus looked up and down anxiously, and his eyes flitted around the void but found nothing but faint pints of light in the blackness. Then, growing arrogant, Mundus revealed more of his pride, "So, it seems you would rather run than face me; perhaps you are not so foolish after all. But fear not, I am a generous King and I forgive your sins. I am glad you have realized your place--"

But then, out of nowhere a subtle rush of wind caught Mundus' ears, distracting him for a moment. "Hmm?" His eyes darted to the right and left, where blazing runes hung silently in space. As he glanced around frantically, in every direction, he saw that he was surrounded by an arcane seal of 8 crimson demonic runes, with Sparda's personal glyph directly in front. Bathed in the warm glow of the seal, time stopped completely for Mundus. "Cease these juvenile games! Show yourself!"

Suddenly, his body began to tremble as if the universe itself quaked under the stress of Sparda's power. At the last moment, he raised his head to see what seemed to be a bright crimson star descending upon him light a flash of lightning.[8] As it approached from light years away with impossible speed, it grew and appeared like a black and red comet, the herald of Armageddon.[9] But before he could make out the image of the core, it was too late. Sparda had brought his sword down hard upon his helm and through his body, sending a sharp red light down its entire length.

Mundus stood frozen in mid-air as he locked eyes with Sparda once more. "You…you cannot…."

Sparda peered into Mundus, trying to decipher why he had ever chosen to follow such a pathetic being to begin with.

"You cannot defeat me…"

Sparda knew it was over and a sense of relief and retribution washed over him, "**I already have**" Sparda then turned his back to Mundus and began to fly away.

"How…how dare you…turn your back on me! I am the King of Hell! You shall bow before—"

Suddenly, the flaming runes surrounding Mundus' body began to pulsate and without warning, they converged upon him all at once, sending a surge of energy through his fractured body; each crack and fissure emitted a red glow. Then, Mundus shattered into a million pieces as blinding white light filled the entire area and almost all of Hell seemed to scream in agony at once.

Sparda stopped in mid-flight and took a deep breath, seeming to revert back to his normal form. Confusion and a feeling of numbness overwhelmed him. He had just accomplished the greatest feat in his life but he did not feel victorious. _I let it take over…How could it have done that…I cannot let it happen again. I must lock this place, this power, away for eternity._

And with that thought, Sparda made his way back to the portal with only one thing on his mind: find Anna. Sparda had seemingly done the impossible. He had traversed the treacherous gulfs of Hell, came face-to-face with its strongest warriors and defeated them. He had even defeated the Dark Lord Mundus.

_Dis aliter visum…._[10]

* * *

[1] My academic associate, Dr. Ibn-Amir, notes that passages such as these have a distinct alchemical, or Hermetic, subtext to them. This is to be expected given the time period, as many pseudo-sciences such as alchemy and astrology were part of the milieu of the ancient times. Dr. Ibn-Amir believes that this particular passage, along with others, refers in coded form, to the process of purifying and separating the ore of the _occultus lapis adamantis_. The process "Mundus" describing is either _calcinatio_ or _separatio_. This significance is not mentioned in the Vatican copy. ~Ed. with thanks to Dr. Ibn-Amir

[2] The original manuscript includes a single note here written in capital letters, as if to indicate an acronym: VITRIOL. It is prefaced by the same Tau-serpent symbol used in a previous chapter, indicating its connection to the Naasene Zurvanites, or more likely, to an alchemical process.

[3] Soul here refers not to some subtle body of manifestation, so much as it refers to the seat of emotion and the mind. It is the _psuche_ and_ anima_ of the ancients, and it is meant to refer to the thing that "Sparda" has awakened to. ~Ed.

[4] It is clear at different places in the manuscript that the "Fallen Ones" that this area is filled with did not have any real, certain significance. Commentaries have interpreted the "Fallen Ones" as referring to politicians and failed warlords of the time in a similar manner to Dante Alighieri in his Commedia, a symbol for the evil in the world of the author "Didymus," and a mythico-religious notion of fallen gods or, in the case of the Vatican, fallen angels who became the first demons. In any case, it seems clear that, even moreso than the many fantastical locales describe by "Didymus," that the Room of the Fallen Ones was one which was most likely wholly a fabrication of his mind, perhaps to frame the symbolism of the battle ~Ed.

[5] This entire section of "Mundus'" speech has been excised from the Vatican copy, due to its implications for the principle of _privatio boni_, that evil or darkness is only an insubstantial lack of good, and not a metaphysical reality in itself. The passage has been rather clumsily replaced with a paraphrasal of John 1:1-5. The sentiment expressed in the text is certainly the opposite of that, with Light and Darkness depending on each other for their mutual existence. It is unclear if Light and Darkness must oppose each other violently, as in Zoroastrian doctrine, or whether they are meant to coexist harmoniously as in the teachings of the Daoists. There is a note on the original manuscript that has been reconstructed as: TZIMZTUM. ~Ed.

[6] Order here is translated from the Latin _mundus_, analogous to the Greek _kosmos_, signifying the ordered, and restricted universe. ~Ed.

[7] As all of the above is very similar to the Gnostic critiques against the Abrahamic monotheisms, it has been understandably excised from the Vatican copy. ~Ed.

[8] "And he said unto them, I saw Satan like lightning fall from heaven." Luke 10:18. Note in original manuscript ~Ed.

[9] This appears to be a reference to the star called Wormwood which decimates the earth in the Book of Revelation, most likely to emphasize the level of destructive power the character Sparda is wielding at the moment. ~Ed.

[10] This appears as a faint note in the original manuscript but is rarely included in the narrative, as it appears to have been erased somehow. It includes several question marks made at a later time, as if the indicate that not even the visionary "Didymus" fully understood the text that was being channeled through him. ~Ed.


	25. Chapter 24: Haunting Past

**Chapter 24** _Awake to Justice__: Haunting Past_

_Find Anna..._The words ran wild through Sparda's mind in a frantic jumble of confusion, oddly chaotic yet focused. Barreling through Hell with high velocity, he seemed to be pushing the very atmosphere aside as if it were slowing him down.

To Sparda, Hell now seemed a wasteland. Whether it was his coup that had completely ruined his "idyllic" memories of his former home, or his awakening that had altered his perception, he was unsure. Dead ahead of him lay the portal, wide open, ready for any demon to walk through it. He burst through it in a flash of light, carrying a trail of hellfire and rolling black smoke. Soon, he hoped, this would be over, and he could shut the gateway, and place Hell itself under lock and key.

Anna and the rest of the Resistance stood staring at the Tower. For hours now, the Tower had been behaving strangely, surrounded with frenetic energy like a caged beast threatening to break free. The surrounding area seemed to shake not more than fifteen minutes previously. It behaved as if it were under stress, like something was happening in Hell to disturb it.

The group consensus among the Resistance supported the idea that the Final Battle was coming, the last assault from the demons, and the most violent.

"Come on, let's get ready..." Anna said. As a leader, she knew that the chances of winning a head-on fight against the demons were nonexistent; but she knew, as the rest of humanity, that simply sitting down and letting the evil overcome the world was unacceptable. Men bid farewell their wives and children, locking them securely in underground bunkers, determined to prevent the demons from reaching them. There were women and even some children, who had lost their families to the darkness, that joined the initiative, ready to the give the demons hell.

Those who were ill-equipped to fight, like the wounded from previous battles, watched helplessly in what they thought were the last hours of this world. Others still, like Ivan the alchemist, stayed behind and worked tirelessly at what he did best: producing weapons for the frontlines.

The small army of humans moved outside and towards the Tower, ready to make a stronghold for however long they could, a last line of defense against the demons. Anna walked as confidently as she could, leading the group.

As they approached the point where they would make their stand, a burst of fire erupted from the gateway a top the tower, and Anna heard the crowd gasp and jump back in unison. She turned to them an attempted to rouse their courage.

"I know this is not easy, but we must stand together! We cannot sit idly by and wait for the Darkness to claim us!" No sooner than she had finished the sentence, a rush of wind whipped past the crowd; With a streak of dark crimson and black, Anna was caught up, removed from the sight of her army.

Everyone stood in shock. With their leader gone, one by one they left to hide with their families. In one fell swoop, all that had held the army together was taken...

Before she knew what had happened, Anna was several hundred feet in the air, gripped around the waist by what she knew was a demon, but could only hope was Sparda.

"Do not be afraid..." She was relieved by the human language spoken with an unmistakable demonic inflection: Sparda's voice. She quickly became aware that he was bringing them back down to the ground on the opposite side of the Tower. She soon regained her composure when Sparda landed and placed her on her feet. A storm of furious words was ready to tear Sparda apart, but his clawed hand quickly moved to her lips.

"At any other time, I would be willing to suffer through our standard ritual of you rebuking my 'evil ways' and my 'lack of compassion,' and me blaming the inherent absurdities of human culture for my confusion and inability to conform to your impossible values. But right now something big is happening, or is about to happen, and I need your help to stop it."[1]

He took his hand away from her mouth, indicating that he had finished speaking. She realized that, by the tone of his voice alone, he was anxious about something.

"I think I already figured out that an army of your 'brethren' is about to blast through that gate and kill us all."

"No....not yet at least....right now they are trying to cope with what I have done...reconstitute themselves. Then, an army with strength and numbers that you cannot even imagine will tear this world apart."

Anna stood perplexed, "But...why? Why wait?"

"Because, with no order to guide their chaos, they will run in circles chasing their own tails." He looked at Anna, who still looked confused. "No King, no Kingdom."

Anna's eyes grew wide. "You killed the Devil King! I thought that was impossible! There is no way you can be that powerful, is there? How..."

"I am not sure how myself, but we do not have time to wonder now," Sparda replied.

"So....what do you need me for?"

"Soon the entirety of Hell will learn of Mundus' death and seek revenge, on me, and on your people. Taking away their ruler will not stop the invasion for long; as long as Hell exists, demons will be drawn to the human world by an innate desire. This desire will never subside or die, but it must be...locked away." Sparda's words permeated Anna's mind as she contemplated, almost word-for-word, what he said. Her hand fell to a satchel on her side, holding, among other things, a very important book given to her by someone she loved dearly. It seemed like a lifetime ago…

"You were there, when all this began. The key that unlocked the gateway to my world is the key to locking it away once more. I cannot do this alone, and you are the only other living person I can trust."

Anna felt torn, "But....my people need me..."

"Yes they do. By helping me here, you will help them more than you ever could if you were them now."

Sparda walked past her, towards a large gate to the Tower, "Come, we haven't much time."

As they entered the large door, a sudden gust of cold hit Anna; it was so cold, she felt like her blood were about to freeze. Anna held herself close to Sparda instinctively, trying to keep herself warm despite his endothermic body. As they reached the other side of the large room, they were met by a huge wall of ice, through which they could see the center of Tower. The sound of a huge chain suddenly rattled behind them. Sparda turned, Anna still in his arms, and was instantly face-to-face with Cerberus.

As the hoary Hellhound glared at them with three pairs of eyes, slush-like saliva dripped from his three jaws, freezing instantly as he exhaled. At that moment, Anna felt like any hope she had had about a last line of defense against the demons was an empty lie, as if she was supposed to fear and tremble at his sight. And she did.

Sparda readied himself to attack, but Cerberus stood down, allowing the frozen door to melt away. "Power is what I answer to. I acknowledge your ability. You may pass; you have my blessing." They passed through into the vertical corridor of the Tower. The ice reformed, and Sparda thought he could make out a faint nod and the gleam of bared teeth from the Hellhound.

They quickly continued deep into the Tower, reaching another Guardian's Room: The Firestorm Chamber. Agni and Rudra stood waiting for Sparda. The headless hosts that wielded the sapient demonic swords knelt before him.

"We could be a great help to you..." one said.

"Surely we could, brother...We have waited for someone who could wield our furious power, someone stronger than us. You are that one," said the other.

"So true, Agni…**you will take us with you, then?**" they both asked in unison. Sparda was taken aback, amazed at how so many here, the fearsome Guardians themselves, were unhappy with Mundus. But, he could not accept their offer for so many reasons. He brushed past them, "Maybe next time..."

"Wonderful." "Excellent." "**We will await your return.**"

With that, Anna and Sparda took their leave. As they left the room, they could hear a faint conversation echoing through the hall:

"Brother?" "Yes, brother?" "Do you think he will truly return for us?"

"Well, brother, that depends." "Depends on what?" "Why, whether he returns at all, of course. Others might not be as hospitable as we two are." "Hmm, quite right, quite right! But, brother…what is 'hospitable?'" "Well, hospitable is when…"

_It is a good thing I did not bring them after all, I would not have been able to bear such vacuous dialogue. Let some less fortunate fool suffer through their inane babbling…_Sparda thought to himself.

As they came upon the next gateway, Sparda swung open the door, Anna close behind. What she saw there shocked her: Giant iron cubes, floating and twisting in air of their own volition. She turned to close the massive metal door leading to the Firestorm Chamber. The demonic scimitars could still be heard conversing with one other.

Both she and Sparda peered over the edge of the platform they stood on. The huge dark room was dizzying, even to Sparda. After a few seconds seemingly entranced, he looked up at Anna. "Those cubes' movements have a pattern. You can get down safely, though it will take time." He snapped his wings, ready to jump.

"Wait, can't you just...take me?" Anna asked.

"No...I have something I have to take care of."

"So, you're just going to leave m—"

He burst into flight, and through a door at the bottom of the room. Anna mumbled something under her breath, and grudgingly began the tedious descent.

What Sparda saw in the next room was sickening. Huge torture wheels running through lava, humans hung from the ceiling in every contortion possible, cages for extending the anguish of captives. He knew exactly whose room this was, and that they would not be as even-tempered as the other two Guardians had been.

"I can see that you've made yourself right at home, old friend..." A roar bellowed from above, followed by a huge taloned foot. Sparda was instantly buried in the stone ground.

"You reek of betrayal!" Beowulf scraped Sparda up with one hand, and tossed him in the air. With the other hand, glowing with demonic white light, he hit Sparda dead center, sending him into the wall across the room. The force of the punch alone knocked Sparda a few feet into the wall.

"Why have you done this, Sparda? You disgrace your own kind for these weaklings? What of your great destiny?"

"You do not understand, old friend. _This_ is my destiny and I cannot let anything get in my way. I do not want to fight you, so grant me passage."

"For your dishonor, I will grant you nothing but death!"

Sparda focused on Beowulf seething with anger, as his former friend and comrade snapped his own pearly white wings. Sparda snapped his, dislodging from the stone. He flew full force at Beowulf, who jumped in the air and hit the ground with his fist, sending a volcano of light upwards that knocked Sparda to the ground.

Beowulf had advantages over Sparda that no one else did. They grew up together, and know everything about each other, including combat weaknesses. "Mundus deserved his fate, Sparda, and we both knew that you would be the one to defeat him. It is for that reason alone that I suffered his arrogance for so long. But now you refuse to take your place on the throne and secure the total devastation of the human world? There is no higher treason against Hell; your blood will forever carry the foul stench of betrayal and as long as I draw breath, you will find no rest, in this life or the next."

Beowulf leapt into the air and landed in front of Sparda, looming over his traitorous foe. Sparda lifted his sword quickly, but Beowulf simply knocked it away. "You see, your time with the humans has made you weak and slow. Pathetic…"

He slammed an open hand on Sparda, pinning him to the ground. "I have always wondered what you looked like without all that armor," Beowulf said calmly. "Since you no longer deserve it, I think I will peel it from your bones..." He tightened his grip as the door swung open.

"Anna!" Sparda called out in his demonic tongue inadvertently. Beowulf turned and grinned widely. He slammed the floor hard with his foot, causing a cage to fall down over Anna. The impact on the ground sunk the cage inward slightly, trapping her. Beowulf turned back to Sparda, "And she can watch!"

A loud locking sound suddenly reverberated in the room as the tower seemed to rumble with movement. Beowulf loosened his grip on Sparda, and turned in shock to face Anna, who was reading from the book in her satchel. Beowulf's eyes grew wide, "No..._No_!" Beowulf, now ignoring Sparda, lumbered for the cage housing Anna. Screaming at her in a voice she didn't understand, "No! It is my job to protect this lair! How did this one acquire the Tome! A mere human is forbidden from such power, I will not allow it!" He rattled her cage furiously, trying to get it loose from the ground.

Anna screamed in terror as Sparda, with unsurpassed speed, grabbed his sword and assumed an offensive stance. With a flick of the wrist, the sword became a scythe as Beowulf lifted the cage and tossed it aside, lunging for Anna.

Sparda drew his scythe backwards and seemed to pause for the slightest moment. _Forgive me, old friend…_And then Sparda hurled the scythe with all his strength. Anna curled up as Beowulf's claws closed in on her. And the room fell silent.

Sparda's scythe returned to its master and resumed its form as a sword in his outstretched hand. Beowulf howled in pain, grabbing his face. Anna, covered in the bloody vitreous humor from Beowulf's former left eye, dashed out of his reach and ran for the door. Beowulf stumbled around blindly, roaring in anger and agony. Sparda ran past him, securing his sword on his back. Beowulf heard this and the door opening. "No! You coward! You cannot escape!" Sparda slammed the door behind him, and heard Beowulf's muffled tones as Anna recited another incantation from the book, "I will find you, Sparda! Your blood screams out to me and I will not stop until it is silenced! Mark my words, Sparda, I will have my vengeance! The sins of the father will be visited on the sons! Your entire lineage will suffer on your behalf!"

Anna closed the book as her voice continued to echo through the halls, finishing the spell. The locking sound from within the door rumbled again. Anna breathed heavily. "You were right, you do need me..."

"Why do you say that? I would have defeated him easily enough without you—" Sparda asked as he turned around. To his surprise, everything had changed since the last time he had been in the tower. Before them now was a staircase leading down, with what looked like a train car on tracks. "_That_ is why..." She said, smirking.

"What is all of this? I do not remember this being here before…"

Anna hurried down the stairs. "This is what we need to use to reach that the control room of the Tower." They jumped on the train, and it sped through the bowels of the Tower. When it stopped, they were met by a long blue corridor with a large iron door at the end.

The door had cutaways that showed the massive gears within. They started down the corridor, "Soon we will reach the Lair of Judgment. There, we'll be able to lock this tower, and the Underworld, away for good." As they reached the door, Anna was taken aback by something.

A glimmering piece of red stone lay in the middle of the door. Anna ran her fingers over it. "Someone had already been here..."

Sparda, sensing that something was amiss, reached for his sword, "Or they still are..." He turned the gem, undoing the series of locks. The door swung open.

The Lair of Judgment. In this room awaited the destiny of all three figures that now stood within it. They were observed by the countless faces of tortured souls frozen in anguish, all of whom had been sacrificed to build the Tower. The Architect sat poised upon his throne fashioned out of human bones and demon corpses. He held a tattered leather strap in his sinewy left hand, on the other end of which was his demonic steed, Geryon. The living scar that marred his face since he had begun this unholy crusade now covered the majority of his body, making him almost unrecognizable as his former self. Before him stood Anna, with Sparda keeping guard close behind. A crooked grin formed upon his face and he spoke.

"So the traitor finally chooses to show his face…" His voice was deep and raspy and his eyes faded from blue to black as he spoke. His comments were directed toward Sparda and he completely disregarded his daughter as if she did not exist. She stood before him, holding the brown book, given to her only two years ago by Abel, close to her chest.

"F-Father…don't you recognize me?"

Still ignoring his daughter, the Architect continued to taunt Sparda, "Do you realize that you can never defeat the darkness? It is far too great….far too powerful to ever be overcome."

Sparda did not respond but instead held back cautiously, awaiting an attack. Anna continued to approach her father, or whatever was left of him, as the tears began to well up in her eyes again.

"Father….all this time….all this time I thought you were dead…but lo and behold here you stand….this must be fate…I came here for a reason…I came here to save the human race… and to save you!"

The comment seemed to catch at least part of the Architect's attention as his glowing eyes fell upon his daughter.

"It is not too late for you. I know you have done terrible things, that you have hate dwelling within you. There was a time when hate dwelled within me too, but I realized that that is not the way to conquer evil; it only makes the darkness stronger! It is not too late for you!"

Her words seemed to bounce right off the Architect as he remained cold and poised. But they did seem to seep into the mind of Sparda as his thoughts trailed off. Growing more and more frustrated, Anna continued to try and sway her father. "Don't you get it! We can end this right now! We can make it like it used to be! If you repent and fight the darkness, all the evil you have done will be forgotten, and you will save the human world…"[2]

But again, her comments went unheard as she came dangerously close to her father. This was just the moment he had been waiting for, and he attempted to grip Anna's neck. But before he could move a muscle, the tip of Sparda's blade was at his throat.

"Stay right where you are, liche."

"Hmm? I suppose the rumors of your abilities were not exaggerated after all…"

"No, don't!" Anna screamed to Sparda. "Father, please! You do not have to do this!"

As the Architect's eyes fell upon Anna once more, he spoke in an eerily hollow voice, "Why do you call me that? I am not your father. Only darkness resides here." Intoning those words, the hope Anna had sought seemed to evaporate like the morning dew. She realized that she could not save her father. He was lost to her. The Architect's attention then drew back to Sparda, "And you…"

Suddenly, the Architect lifted his hand and the color was sucked out of the entire room as he conducted his time dilation technique. Sparda and Anna moved in slow motion as the Architect leapt from the seat of his throne into the air, landing mere feet behind Sparda.

"You are not as powerful as you think, demon," he uttered as he prepared his clawed right hand for Sparda. Smoky black energy began to exude from his fingertips, writhing in tandem with his living scar as it reached out toward Sparda.

But then, just as the Architect was about to attack, Sparda suddenly turned to face him. He seemed to be moving at normal speed, albeit vibrating at a high frequency, while Anna and everything else remained nulled. "What? How is this possible? This cannot—"

The Architect could not say anything more, as Sparda grabbed him by the throat and slammed him hard to the ground, causing the muted nulling effect to shatter like glass. Anna looked around dazed and turned around to see her father being held up by his throat.

"Wait! No!"

"So…I've underestimated you….But it seems you have underestimated me as well. Geryon, attack!"

The gigantic blue horse shuffled back as if it was preparing to charge. Sparda dropped the Architect to the ground and turned to defend himself as Geryon rushed towards him. But Sparda, still buzzing with some kind of strange power, noticed something was different this time. As Geryon moved closer and closer in a streak of blue fury, Sparda raised his hand tentatively as if he expected something to happen. Instantly, Geryon braked hard, with his carriage skidding behind him and kicking up dust. When the dust cleared after a few moments, as the horse approached slowly, it did nothing more but shuffle before Sparda, making no threatening movements whatsoever.[3]

"Geryon, attack him now!"

But the horse did nothing. This monstrous demonic horse that stood before Sparda now acted as a loving foal, as if obeying its true master. Letting his guard down finally, Sparda approached the horse, running his clawed hands through its flaming mane.

"Enough of this!" Now, the Architect had his sights set on Anna once more and lunged at her with deadly speed. But he did not make it even five steps from her before Sparda's blade jutted out through his abdomen, almost as if it had always been there

Anna turned her head at the sight and blood flecked the skin of her face and neck.

The Architect's strange lifeblood began to flow from him as his glowing blue eyes started to fade. He gurgled as he spoke to Anna, "You….I…I know you…"

Her eyes filled with tears, Anna glared back at the Architect, "Father?"

"My….my daughter…."

"Yes, father, it's me…"

"I…I should have…."

"What…what is it father?"

Suddenly, the Architects eyes flashed a distant blue once more, "I should have killed you along with your mother!"

Anna's eyes widened as a sharp pain hit her in the chest and her heart sank. The Architect had attempted one final attack at her, but as his body moved, so did Anna's. Before she could even think, she had pulled her pistol from its holster and planted the barrel at his forehead. They locked gazes and an eternity seemed to come to an end in that single moment. Anna whispered something as a tear ran down her cheek. Before it had hit the ground, the bullet had passed through her father's skull. The gun shot reverberated throughout the entire hall until it became a faint echo. The Architect slid off Sparda's blade as he dropped backward to the ground with a sickening thud.

As his body let out its death rattle, a dark spirit emerged from his mouth, screaming and writhing in pain. It was the Rider, the demonic being that had possessed the Architect's ever so willing body. The Dark Rider[4] struggled as his body began to dissipate then suddenly he leapt at Geryon, entering its body. The horse shrieked as its body was teleported away. The horse's cries could be heard as it plunged further and further into the bowels of the tower.

Anna's slender hands trembled as she held the still smoking gun limply by her side. Her blank eyes gazed off into the distance. As she glared down at her father she could not hold back her tears. All her pain and hurt over the past few years had come down to this. Never did she think that it would be her responsibility to end the life of her father.

As she fell down to both knees, holding her father's head in her arms she wept. All kinds of repressed emotions struggled to free themselves in that moment; all the fear, all the anguish, sadness, hatred that she had experienced over the past few years was focused on this one event. But at the same time, feelings of relief and closure enveloped her heart and mind. She knew she had done everything in her power to save her father. And now, she knew that he no longer had to struggle with his own demons. He was free. His soul was now at rest,[5] and she was ready to do whatever had to be done for the rest of the human world.

Sparda peered down at Anna out of the corner of his eye, trying not to look at her directly. He knew exactly what was occurring but he still did not understand why. He did not understand why Anna was mourning a being who had tried to kill her. The connection between human beings was deeper than he could ever fathom and at that moment, he realized that he may never truly understand it fully.

Feeling as if he had allowed her enough time for here "crying," Sparda managed to speak. "Anna. We must finish this."

Wiping her tears and slowly gathering herself, Anna stood erect and steadfast. "Yes. Tonight, we end this."

And so Anna and Sparda prepared to close the portal, to shut away the Tower of Fear, and to stop the darkness once and for all…

* * *

[1] Again, "Sparda's" human speech has been reconstructed or augmented either by "Didymus" or by early compilers of the text, most likely to emphasize Sparda's inherent intelligence. Even within the context of the narrative, it is highly unlikely that Sparda could assimilate the linguistic subtleties of the human tongue in such a short time. ~Ed.

[2] This seems to be formulaic and may have been added by later religious redactors to further the doctrine of forgivness and absolution of sins. It is not in agreement with the existing ethic of the time in which tht text was written, which would have been based on honor and some version of the _lex talionis_. ~Ed.

[3] This passage seems to be out of place within the text and may have been a transplantation from texts from the East. My colleagues in the Eastern Religion department note that there is a heavy similarity to the passage depicting the compassion and serenity of the Budha in raising his hand to stop a rampaging white elephant. ~Ed.

[4,5] There is included here a reference to another apocryphal text known as the "Testament of Qayin" that has yet to be published, although a passage has been appended. There is an implication that the "Architect's" story is not over, and that death may not be the end of this character. Although the "Dark Rider" along with several elements related to the Architect are theorized to have been transplanted from this earlier text to give the current text a sense of authority, they are present in the earliest extant copies of the text.


	26. Chapter 25: Fate

**Chapter 25** _Awake to Justice:__ Fate  
_

The Lair of Judgment was silent. Only the faint echoes of the commotion occurring outside the walls of the Tower could be heard. Sparda and Anna stood motionless in the center of the hall with the body of her dead father close by.

"So, how are we going do this?"

Anna's mind was adrift about her father's destiny and her own, the fate of the human world, and her peculiar relationship with this strange demon, and so she did not seem to hear Sparda's question.

"Anna!"

"Y-yes…" She snapped back into reality. She knew that she still had a mission to complete and all that had been done this night would have been in vain if she did not finish it.

"This…" Anna held out the brown book[1] in her hands, "The answers we seek lie in here."

If Sparda had had eyebrows he would have raised one in puzzlement. "And what is that supposed to do?"

"This book is the counter-balance to everything that has happened. I have waited so long for this moment, so long to find someone like you; a being from their world that would help us…" Anna opened the book and began to flip through its pages with an uncanny familiarity. She had gone through these steps so many times in her head but she never believed she would ever get a chance to use them. And yet, here they were.

"This book tells of a way to shut the Darkness away for good, a way to destroy this tower." Anna continued to thumb through pages until she stopped at the page she wanted. "Here."

Sparda turned his body to face her, unconsciously squeezing the handle of his sword as he did so. Anna took deep breaths to calm herself, preparing to tell Sparda how he could single-handedly end the war between humans and demons. She cleared her throat and spoke, "Well, the first key that we will need is the blood of a devil. But it cannot be any devil; it must be the blood of a demon that has chosen the path of righteousness…" Anna looked at Sparda intently, searching for any signs of hesitation.

"So, you need _my_ blood then…" Sparda's words trailed off as his head turned down and to the left.

"Yes..." Anna said as if making a plea to Sparda.

"Then…so be it." Without hesitation, Sparda took his sword and sliced himself through his left forearm, allowing his lifeblood to splash on the ground and into the glowing crevice in the center of hall. Both Anna and Sparda looked on as the fluid continued to flow. Sparda seemed ready to give all the lifeblood in his body for this cause as he squeezed his wrist, causing the obsidian ichor to flow faster. [2]

"That should be enough, Sparda," Anna said as a cold sweat began to break out on her forehead. "Now….it says that a devil's power must be harnessed outside the realm of Hell and kept in the human world. Again, this power must be that of a demon with a proud spirit and a righteous soul."

"Hmm, harnessed in the human world? How do you propose I do that?"

"Well, you need to channel your power and….and secure it inside something. Something…solid…."[3] Anna's mind raced and she wondered if what she had just said sounded as absurd as she thought.

_Something solid…_Sparda thought. Then a thought illuminated his mind as he looked up at Anna. He did not look into her eyes but instead focused on the charm around her neck.

"Will this not work? It is of demonic origin, after all."[4] Sparda pointed to it with his sword.

Anna looked down at the charm and grabbed it with her free hand, "This?" Memories of Abel hit her instantly. He was the one who had given the charm to her so long ago. It was his last gift to her before he went away, for a long time. "This…this amulet was given to me by Abel…I…think it is only right that good will come of its use."

Anna took the charm from around her neck and handed it to Sparda. He placed it on the ground and unsheathed his sword from between his wings. Red and black wisps of energy exuded from his body and were drawn up into his sword, causing its gem to pulsate and crackle in the ether. Then, in a flash, he raised his sword into the air with the tip pointed down and pierced the amulet, causing an intense red flash to shoot out from all sides. A surging wind arose, knocking Anna to the ground, causing the entire Tower to tremor. But within seconds, the quake stopped and a faint wind trailed off and dissipated.

As the dust settled, Anna looked down at the amulet which was now glowing a bright red, illuminating its silver exterior. Sparda picked up the amulet and held it out toward Anna, "Here, I think it will be safe with you. I have only infused it with my residual energy, but it should be more than enough in my present state." She took the amulet and clutched it tightly.

"What is the next step?" Sparda said, growing anxious and cold from the thought of closing the portal to his erstwhile home, Hell.

"Nothing. That….that's it. It doesn't say anything else. I suppose now we just have to wait for the seal to take effect."

"Hm..." Sparda said as he clamped his sword on his back and folded him arms. "And so we wait."

Outside the lair and around the Temen-Ni-Gru, an intense battle raged on as the human Resistance was slowly making its way up the tower. Demons seemed to fall faster than ever before as the sheer will of the humans overwhelmed them. Their battle cries and screams echoed on into the night sky, blending with the sounds of the swirling winds from above.

The final assault had begun. The end of the war was nigh….

Inside the Lair of Judgment, Anna and Sparda waited for the spell to take effect, but to their chagrin nothing seemed to be stirring. Not so much as a sound.

"What are we waiting for? We do not have time! Why does this not work!" Sparda growled impatiently. He grew more apprehensive, knowing that an overwhelming surge of demons could stream from the portal at any moment if it was not closed soon.

"I don't know what's wrong. It's suppose to be working! The book doesn't say anything else!" Anna cried, flipping through the pages of the book once more. But then a realization hit her like freezing rain. Her face fell pale and her jaw dropped as she looked at the pages of the book. _How did I not see this?_ She thought to herself. On closer inspection of the book she noticed something; small bits of torn paper lay within the spine of the book in between the pages. _A missing page!_

"Oh no!" Anna yelled, her voice cracking mid-sentence.

"What is it!" Sparda roared, noticing the fear in her voice.

"A page…it's missing! Someone tore it out! We…we can't finish the spell….there is one more key….but I don't know what it is! This was our last hope...now there's no way to seal the portal!" Dread and dismay overcame her and her face trembled in horror as she looked at Sparda.

Sparda did not know what to do. He did not know what to say. Once again he was staring failure in the face, and this time, he had no answer for it. His heart beat faster and faster as he began to rebel against his fate, and his frustration threatened to overcome him...

Then, suddenly, a thunderous boom exploded from above the tower and an indescribable bright light poured into the Lair of Judgment, forcing Sparda and Anna to shield their eyes. Sparda had already assumed an offensive stance regardless of his sight; he assumed that Beowulf had come back for another round, as stubborn as always. But, as the light receded Sparda looked up to see a horrifying scene.

White feathers fell upon him and the cold floor of the hall ever so silently. What had once been the echo of a deafening crash now faded into the faint resonance of a heavenly choir. A holy trinity of false luminaries was ascendant in the soft, warm light that bathed the Lair. And before him, as if Sparda was seeing him the very first time in his life, was Mundus resplendent. [5]

Standing between Sparda and Anna, Mundus stood only inches taller than Sparda. It seemed that he had reverted back to his original, natural state of being. Sparda was at a loss for words. Anna looked up at Mundus' angelic form in rapt astonishment, even adoration.[6]

"Hmm, you do not seem pleased to see me, young Sparda."

Sparda's shock slowly began to give way to his growing anger as he took up his sword. "Mundus…."

"I see you have kept yourself busy in my short absence," Mundus chuckled, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "You see, Sparda, as I told you before, you can never defeat me, no matter how strong you _think_ you are. I will proceed with my plans to rule this world. But first, I will burn it to the ground, unleashing my entire army upon it, choking it, razing it, until all that is left are the memories of a forgotten race. And upon the ruins of mankind, I will build my new Kingdom, as upon Argosax' remains before. All will look on my works and despair, for none mightier than Mundus has there been, and none mightier shall there ever be.….."

Sparda had had enough. The very sight of Mundus at this point made him sick. At this moment, he was tired of fighting. He was disgusted with the seemingly endless storm of evil and strife and failure. He was tired of having to prove himself to be just over and over. The rage built within him and he could feel himself doing it again, losing control, no—this time, giving it away. His body left the ground and lunged toward Mundus before he could even think.

With a violent battle cry, he extended his sword outward as he blazed across the ground. The last thing he remembered was the haughty, smirking face of Mundus. As he made contact, an incredible light filled the lair, and the entire tower glowed. All Sparda could hear was a faint scream that was suddenly cut short. There was one more thunderous bang and the light was sucked out of the lair faster than the eye could see. Sparda struggled to refocus his eyes on the scene.

As his eyes made the adjustment, he looked forward hoping vainly to see the dead body of Mundus on his blade once and for all. But beyond all odds he had done almost the exact opposite. He had done the unthinkable. His eyes widened as he looked into the eyes of Anna. Her face trembled as a thin line of blood ran from the corner of her mouth; it was as if she and the blade merged into one horrific mass of visceral agony.

Sparda looked down at his sword in total horror, as half of it was extended through Anna's stomach and peering out through her back. He panicked and quickly pulled his blade out, causing her wound to bleed even more violently. Anna slowly dropped to the ground but Sparda cradled her before she fell. She was still alive, barely, and in shock from the blood loss and pain. Sparda he did not know what to say or what to do; he knew she had only minutes to live at most. He gasped for air frantically as he dropped his blade and looked into her eyes. "I…..I…."

Tears flowed from Anna's eyes once more. Somehow, she managed to speak, "You…you are our last hope…" Her words trailed off and her eyes closed. As her lips seemed to form a faint smile, her body fell completely limp and she exhaled her last breath.[7]

Sparda could not believe what he had just done. His scaly fingers quivered as he held Anna's still warm body in his arms. Indescribable emotions ran through his mind and the only way he knew how to express them now was through pure rage.

His eyes became an incredible flaming bright red and an aura of red and black energy began emitting from his chest.

He was totally disgusted with himself. He wanted to claw the very armor from his body and send himself into oblivion. Pure hate and self-loathing blasted through his veins. The anger continued to grow. The rage, the pain, the conflict. He could feel himself slipping once more, slipping into the black abyss within. And this time, he did not care; he no longer had a reason to care. He had failed in his mission and what was worse, he had killed the one being that not only showed him the path of righteousness, but showed him that demons can care about beings other than themselves.

Nothing else mattered to him as he continued to search for more reasons to build his rage and feed the emotions he did not want to know how to control. There was only one thought that needed to cross his mind for him to totally lose it, "**Mundus!**"

Uttering that name, Sparda's raw power belted through the tower causing it to crack and break around its exterior. All who stood in and around the Tower stopped in their tracks and looked to its apex. He had become another being, all the righteousness in his soul was now being choked by his blind rage, his power. He had given his body up to his dark side, the side that relished in conquest, the side that, if left unchecked, could ultimately destroy both worlds.

Red flames tinged with black surged around the whole of his body, extending across his wings making them seem three times larger. All thoughts of saving the human world left his mind. He now had one goal and one goal only: the death of Mundus.

He teleported away so fast that space literally snapped back into place behind him leaving a visible ripple and a loud crack, and barreled back towards the portal. He ventured to Hell to defeat the Dark Emperor once again, but it was no longer for the sake of humans. He was doing it to satisfy his rejuvenated bloodlust, the one he had denied for so long in his _pretense_ of justice, and to quell the firestorm of emotions that had arisen from killing the only being truly mattered to him. There was no more hope, no more justice; now there was only vengeance...

* * *

[1, 4] This book and amulet are also key items in the aforementioned "Testament of Qayin," which accounts for their abrupt introduction and lack of exposition surrounding them in this text. ~Ed.

[2] From the still fragmentary commentary _De Natura Daemonibus Scientia_ by pseudo-Ivanos: "Their [blood] seems not to carry the vital [essence] as in earthly animals; the power is in the blood. Indeed, it appears to have a noxious effect when co-mingled with [...] although this effect is curiously [...] when in contact with the [pineal?] dew, as in infants. Thought it be devoid of the vitality, this chthonic ichor does [...] great potencies of these beings which may be fermented and [distilled] alchemical processes for benefit to the earthly organism. The [...] makes the poison. I must have more [varieties] of the fluid from various species of infernal organism if I am to understand it fully." ~Ed.

[3] The word "solid" here is used not to refer to the density of a physical material, but rather to contrast to the ethereal nature which is conceived as characterizing the demonic nature. In alchemical terms, this is called "fixing the volatile," i.e. decreasing the ontological potentiality of an entity for the purpose of increasing its ability to affect the physical world. An analogous process seems to be at work in the passages in which the demons "Alastor" and "Ifrit" are transformed into physical weapons. Although the intentions of the author cannot be known for certain, it is obvious that he was conversant with the Hermetic current of his time. ~Ed.

[5] This passage is striking in that it incorporates a more poetic, astrological symbolism. One cannot deny the echoes of Dante's _Paradiso_, although it is very unlikely that this was the source of inspiration. It is most likely a coded astrological or alchemical formula, albeit one which has yet to be decoded ~Ed.

[6] This appears to be another veiled Naasene Zurvanite critique of the God of the Abrahamic traditions, depicting "God" as nothing but an arrogant, powerful devil. This, in addition to the heavy Demiurgic symbolism of the character "Mundus" throughout the text, implies that "Didymus" may have been a member of a Zurvanite sect or at least familiar with their tenets. ~Ed.

[7] The original manuscript includes abiguous language here. It seems to imply that this was Anna's last breath of _this_ life, perhaps indicating some belief in reincarnation which was not uncommon at the time. It also mentioned the "amulet's soul" and the fact that it now "breathes for her." The development and significance of the soul concept from the phenomenological experience of the breath in primitive religions is not lost on this editor or his colleagues. ~Ed.


	27. Chapter 26: Destiny

**Chapter 26** _Awake to Justice:__ Destiny[1]_

The rage of Sparda exploded from without as he blasted through the portal. He came to a steady landing as his eyes locked on to the pristine white fortress of Mundus, the King of Hell. Red flames and black energy swirled around his body like a violent hurricane, ravishing the environment around him. Sparda made no attempt to control his power anymore and it was unleashed from him in fierce bursts that traveled across the landscape, scathing and desiccating any object in the path of its fury. As he made his way across the expanse, the sound was that of a blast furnace roaring lowly, and more loudly at times. The air around him was blurry not only from the heat, but from the sheer concentration of power placing stress on space. Rocks and parts of the landscape actually dislodged themselves and floated as Sparda approached, only to be energized completely and absorbed into his aura.

Before Mundus' fortress stood yet another legion of his army. Once more, millions upon millions stood in Sparda's way to prevent him from reaching his destiny, and they all emitted the same purple aura that Sparda had seen before. The power of this army was more than threefold what it had been before. At any other time, this battle would have truly tested his resolve, but Sparda was not holding anything back now.

As Sparda walked slowly towards Mundus, the demonic legion amassed in the center of the battlefield in hopes of preventing his progress. After a moment of well-placed hesitation, the first wave billowed toward Sparda like a ferocious sandstorm. But this time, there would be no fighting. No swords would be drawn, no hellfire would be thrown. Sparda hardly paid them any attention.

As they approached, his gait remained steady and his energy flared so that it was at least twenty feet in radius. When they were close enough to see Sparda's face, many of the wiser demons broke ranks and ran in terror, never to be seen again. As the more foolish charged onwards, their raging and chaotic battle cry was muffled and then silenced. When they had drawn no closer than fifty feet from Sparda, their bodies had been disintegrated completely and turned to ash. It seemed as if Sparda's aura was a snarling beast unto itself which lashed out of its own volition, engulfing the oncoming demons in its feral maw, making them part of it. Sparda watched with a detached air of stoical bemusement as their remains whirled silently in the air, and were then swept away by another burst of his power.

The resulting waves suffered the same fate. The sheer brute magnitude of Sparda's raw power overcame them. The sight itself was astonishing; a single point of crimson light moving slowly and steadily through a swarm of retreating darkness. Even those demons that later wished to flee were unable to, as Sparda's power twisted the very fabric of space around him, preventing even the possibility of retreat. Sparda's very presence on the battlefield had sealed their deaths as inevitable from the beginning; there had never been any escape, there had never been any chance of mercy, and there had never been any hope of standing in his way.

As the ashes of the legions of demons whirled through the air, they were carried on the wind and deposited at the threshold of Mundus' hall. And while the remains floated down around Sparda and on the battlefield, he continued his approach to the hall without so much as a glance backwards; For there nothing remained, but the hollow knell of silence amidst the wake of destruction and death...

Sparda came to the gigantic door that now barred his path to Mundus's hall. On occasions when a demon had been summoned, the door would open of its own accord, but Mundus was intentionally keeping the door shut in an attempt to further humiliate Sparda. But his attempt would fail this day.

The only thing Mundus succeeded in doing was further infuriating Sparda. His energy continued to bellow in rage and created a tremendous flaming tempest that set the outside of the fortress ablaze. Before him, the giant door began to sizzle and glow red hot, as it melted into nothing more than a bubbling pile of metal on the ground. Sparda continued through the fortress, meeting little resistance, and the rest of the doors were bypassed in the same way. And as the final door dissolved to the ground and boiled away to nothing, Sparda looked up to see Mundus sitting on his throne, more arrogant than he had ever seen him before.

"So the pawn has come to confront the King once and for all. Strange…no matter how many times a puppet is shown the futility of its actions, it still chooses to believe that it can make a difference…

But you, Sparda, you are different. Or at least you choose to believe you are. At one point, even I must admit, I almost believed it myself! However, you will come to realize, as I have, that your uniqueness is an illusion, an anomaly. Even as you stand before me, you still move at the nudge of a string…and perhaps it has come time to sever those strings once and for all."

"**No…**" Sparda said in a low tone.

"No? So you still remain in denial. You still—"

"**No…more…talking.**"

Mundus was not even able to take another breath. Sparda hurled himself at Mundus and planted a vicious haymaker[2] square on his jaw, burning the throne to smoldering cinders and sending an incredible shockwave throughout out all of Hell. The force of that single hit caused the fortress to buckle at its foundation and begin to crumble. Mundus' gigantic body went flying through the air, crashing through the back of hall.

Mundus recovered quickly but was befallen by another hard punch to his third eye before he knew what as happening. The Dark Emperor hovered before Sparda with pieces of his face and body floating around him. Chunks of stone and rock continued to fall as he spoke, "Hahaha! So it is true then, your powers are truly those of a god. But you must remember, it is I who am the King of kings, the God amongst gods! Now, tremble before the terrible glory of your Lord!"[3]

Mundus closed his massive wings onto himself and became encased in a ball of light. The chunks of Mundus' body began to reform, recreating his body to perfection. The ground beneath him and Sparda shook wildly, sending an earthquake throughout Hell. The fortress, previously unstable from Sparda's attack, now completely fell to the ground, leaving them hovering in the open air. The tremors of Mundus' power could even be felt in the human world as the people struggled to maintain their balance in the Tower. The entire landscape around the two sank into a chasm of black brimstone and lava. Then, as Mundus' energy peaked, orange flames burst from his body sending wind and debris in all directions. Suddenly, Mundus' wings exploded outward, heralding the radiance of brilliant white light.

And Mundus hovered before Sparda, more perfect than ever before. His body glistened exquisitely, capturing the gleam of the lava below, and his newly formed three pairs of wings shone brilliantly behind him. The hole that had marred the center of his chest for centuries was gone. All three of his eyes pulsated an electric red color and the orange flames around his body covered him like a protective shield. This was Mundus at his full power.

"You see, servant, you are not the only one with potential."

Then Mundus was on Sparda like never before, resorting to his raw strength in a first attack.[4] Each traded blows, Mundus punching Sparda in the abdomen, Sparda slicing Mundus across the chest. Back and forth they went, neither one giving ground. Their battle could not be sustained to one position as it raged across the lands of Hell. They both were moving faster than any demon had ever seen, so fast in fact, the very land was pulled from its foundation and sucked into oblivion as they passed. Whatever demons were left in their quarters either hid away in the depths of Hell or were immolated at the very sight of battle.

Although their movements were almost impossible to follow, the mightiest displays of power stood out as events seen across the Hellscape. One of these assaults began as Mundus had put some space between himself and Sparda and was hovering majestically above the lake of fire. There was no haughty banter from Mundus this time; Sparda's raw ferocity had silenced him for now as he struggled to keep up with his movements. Sparda began to speed along the landscape towards Mundus, with his feet a few inches above the ground below. Mundus raised his arm as if summoning a servant, and a sliver of compressed energy shot at Sparda, carving the black rock like butter.

Although Sparda dodged it easily, teleporting out of the way, when he reappeared another wave came at him; Mundus was frantically summoning wave after wave in what he must have known was a futile attempt to stop Sparda. As the final two energy blades raced along the ground towards Sparda, he did not even make an attempt to dodge, but turned to the side and stopped in his tracks. With one hand and his head slightly bowed, Sparda simply brandished his sword in the direction of the waves, and the red energy extending from his blade silently divided them into harmless gusts of wind. With his right side to Mundus, he spun his sword and locked its hilt on his left side in a flourish that ended with the blaze of his aura roaring higher. The space around Sparda warped slightly as he taunted with the demonic equivalent of flexing his muscles.

Sparda looked up towards Mundus and let out an almost imperceptible growl, just in time to see him release thousands upon thousands of granite orbs with runes on them.[5] Some of them spun and shot needle-like energy beams indiscriminately, some produced sustained lasers that followed Sparda around the battlefield, while others seemed to immediately annul any matter that they touched. At first, Sparda was able to pick them off easily with his sword so they could not even come close, but with a motion of Mundus' hand, they engulfed Sparda and the area in an instant, and for a few moments it seemed as if they had overwhelmed him completely. Mundus knew it would not be so simple; among the swarm, crimson light began to emanate and the orbs exploded outward, flying off into Hell's remote areas or disintegrating completely in Sparda's violent aura.

The orbs that remained homed in on Sparda with unrelenting zeal, shooting lasers and projectiles towards him. From far off, it looked as if the very earth was being turned to dust in explosions and fire. However, Sparda was moving at impossible speeds now, with Mundus hardly able to track him, as he jumped from orb to orb, slicing those in his path with one hand. With his other hand, he shot blazing sanguine runes, imbued the power of his true name,[6] that destroyed multiple orbs on contact and continued on towards Mundus. Upon coming close to him, however, a large bluish orb would always appear and absorb any attack Sparda attempted on the Dark Emperor himself.

As Sparda continued to dodge and teleport on the path of orbs towards Mundus, he noticed that Mundus' hands were being held in a strange fashion and that a point of white light seemed to be growing at his third eye;[7] it seemed as if blue and white flakes of adamantine energy were being pulled from the very atmosphere of Hell as they collected in front of him. In an instant, it was a giant glowing sphere of swirling energy and Mundus released it at Sparda. As it gained speed, it vaporized any orbs that were even close to it, and Sparda realized that if it caught him, even he might not fully recover in time for the next attack. He quickly dodged the oncoming attack, but to his surprise, it came back for him; it was locked on and would follow him for as long as the energy existed or until he was destroyed.

Sparda evaded frantically, desperately trying to come up with a plan to shake the sphere. Suddenly an idea came to him, and he raced towards Mundus, planning to lead the sphere towards him to buy some time. But as he approached, all of the orbs simultaneously reappeared before Mundus in an impenetrable shield. As Sparda double back, a few orbs were vaporized and instantly replaced. Realizing that Mundus' strategy had worked, Sparda saw that he was now trapped without any possibility of defending oncoming attacks, for danger of being caught by the orb, and without any offensive power, as any attack he could launch in such a brief window would be easily deflected by Mundus' shield. Sparda attempted to destroy the orb itself with blasts of hellfire or phantom swords, but he had already known that it would be to no avail; the orb merely assimilated whatever energy was thrown at it and grew stronger. Out of options and with nothing to lose, Sparda did the only thing that he could: he stopped in his tracks, and turned to face the sphere of energy directly.

As it approached, his aura grew to astronomical levels and seemed to draw back in anticipation. Just when the sphere was close enough that Sparda scales and armor began to erode and blow in the wind, he drew his palms together as if to somehow hold the oncoming attack. His aura suddenly leapt forward and engulfed the sphere, and, as Sparda further gave in to his primal darkness, his energy changed from smoky red to almost totally black; the darkness overcame the light completely and the orb's energy was incorporated into Sparda's very being, threatening to tear him and the area apart.

The surrounding landscape crackled with black and white electricity and the lava itself began to evaporate into gaseous plasma; Sparda knew that if he did not discharge the combined energy of Mundus and himself soon, he would be totally annihilated. He took up his sword again and turned to charge towards Mundus, but he was entirely surrounded by a dome of orbs that charged up and fired their lasers all at once. From a small gap within the formation, Sparda saw Mundus' god-like form floating serenely in the distance, totally confident that his victory was certain. Sparda bowed his head, his aura growled, and once again the space around him rippled, slowing the lasers down to a crawl, and then to a total standstill. Sparda shot Mundus a ferocious glance with eyes literally ablaze, one that would have killed any human or demon that saw it; with that, the lasers were totally deflected back to their orbs, destroying the dome.

Sparda began to walk slowly towards Mundus, but his pace picked up quickly as a swirling trail of black and red flames was left behind him. As he approached, thousands more orbs appeared in front of Mundus, ostensibly as a shield. But Sparda did not even slow down, in fact, his speed increased to the point where the only thing that could be discerned was a concentrated point of light racing above the ground; it seemed to burn the retinas of all that looked at it directly, and in its wake the earth crumbled into the magma below. Just as it reached the barrier, a shockwave boomed and the entire platform of earth was blown backwards. Sparda reappeared within his blazing aura of black and red spinning in an unholy vortex like an otherworldly auger through the barrier.

What was happening was almost indescribable, and even the denizens of Hell that witnessed it firsthand find it difficult to explain. Waves of energy billowed out from behind Sparda like solar flares, ionizing whatever they touched, including the air. Just as Sparda penetrated the orb shield, shattering it, he redirected Mundus' energy through his sword and blasted it out in a negative vortex that engulfed Mundus. The sight was great and terrible; it was as if the tip of Sparda's sword was the singularity of a quasar, behind him black and red fury erupted, before him blue and ultraviolet jets of flame mingled with crackle of monotone electricity.

Suffice it to say, the entire area was erased from the face of Hell afterwards. From that day forward, nothing would ever survive there and the amorphous matter that remained was forever imbued with arcane energy. Mundus himself was blown to pieces, the smallest parts being indistinguishable from grains of sand. Unfortunately for Sparda and humanity, Mundus, being inseparably connected to the power of Hell, could not be defeated so easily.[8]

This was only one of the notable bouts, and events like this continued on throughout the battle and across Hell. Violent explosions and eruptions lit up the entirety of the Underworld as they fought in this way. Entire areas were destroyed in the aftermath of their attacks in a similar fashion. If the battle had continued on much longer than it did, there would have scarcely been any Hell left for Mundus to rule.

The battle raged on, going back and forth, one gaining a slight upper hand just to see the other come back for more. Pieces of Mundus' body flew off constantly due to Sparda's raging red flames but they came right back together in an instant. Sparda's body was healing faster than it had ever done, regenerating instantly with each blow. Neither Devil was giving ground, both were unbreakable.

The stalemate continued for what felt like hours though only minutes passed. As the dust settled and both demons fell back to catch their breath, Sparda felt the Underworld trembling once more. But this time neither he nor Mundus was causing it. Yet, it was a very familiar feeling to Sparda. _Where have I felt this before..._

"Hmm, it would seem that you are not entirely incompetent, young Sparda. The seal has been reactivated…somehow. But, it does not matter; your corpse will be cold long before the portal is completely closed," Mundus remarked smugly.

Then it hit him. He had felt this same kind of trembling long ago before the portal had opened, like all of Hell was ripping apart; the barrier between the worlds was congealing in agony and strife. Then he remembered…_Anna…but she said we needed one more key. How could this possibly be happening?_ Then a spark went off in Sparda's mind and the image of Anna's dead body on his blade appeared to him. His thoughts then wandered to the crevice in the center of the Hall. _Her blood! Or soul? __SHE was the final key!_

For that split second, Sparda's mind was not on the battle at hand and he suffered for it. Mundus stunned him with a solid punch to his chestplate and unleashed a hailstorm of molten rock upon his head, piledriving him deep into the black earth of Hell. He then contorted his left hand into a strange shape, and a barrage of energy needles blasted out of his right hand into the pit, sending splinters of rock and stone flying.[9]

Sparda came to his feet in an abandoned cave below ground. Not one moment went by before Mundus lifted the ground from above Sparda like a lid, tossing it aside. "Shall we continue?"

Sparda brushed the dirt off his armor and glared up at Mundus, "**Let us.**" As contact was made, another shockwave belted through Hell. Many of the clan territories of Hell had already been turned to ruin in the wake of the battle and many more were incinerated as it waged on.

Mundus fired flaming meteors at Sparda, who deflected them with his sword and fired his own blazing fireballs in return. He even caught some of Mundus' meteors, charged them with his power to make them more volatile, and hurled them back. Sparda slashed Mundus across his chiseled torso and hit him with a solid uppercut on the chin, sending Mundus backward. As he fell, Mundus whirled around and sent raging fiery tornadoes at Sparda using the power of his multiple wings. Sparda countered the immense attack by spinning his body around vertically with a series of rapid somersault kicks, creating waves of red flames that dissipated the cyclones and hit Mundus in succession; he fell towards Mundus like the Blood Moon[10] and landed a darkness-imbued dropkick that sent him flying into magma below.

And so the battle continued, raging on with the naphthalic vitriol of the Phlegethon flowing beneath them. Mundus would damage Sparda with an attack only for him to regenerate mid-hit and come back with his own attack that only allowed Mundus to showcase his own regenerative capabilities. They were like two immovable mountains, impenetrable, unrelenting, and everlasting. Suddenly, both devils drew back and powered up an immense attack, seeming to compete for energy to absorb from Hell. Sparda's aura became concentrated into a singularity held in the palm of his hand, and he unleashed a circular rune blast. Mundus had summoned a circle of runes around him as well, but a large white laser emanated from its surface and flashed towards Sparda. Both waves combined had enough power to destroy a significant portion of Hell and they hit their targets with full force, blasting each out of sight.

It seemed that something had finally changed, that someone had finally gained the upper hand. But that hope was short-lived. Mundus' body, now shattered to pieces once more, came together to reform his perfectly sculpted anatomy. And on the opposite side, Sparda's maimed and scarred body regenerated itself, bringing him back to full health. And almost simultaneously the same thought went through each devil's mind: _**I cannot destroy him. I must find another way**__._ However, unlike Sparda, Mundus had a solution to the dilemma, and Sparda would soon find out what that final solution was.

Sparda floated in mid-air, poised, his mind half focused on Mundus, half focused on keeping him occupied in Hell until the portal closed. Mundus realized that Sparda was stalling and knew he would have to end the battle soon if he ever hoped to begin his ultimate rule of both worlds. The stage was set and both players waited for the next act.

Sparda took deep breaths, pondering his next move. He had already given in to his power but he had not yet given in to the darkness completely. He still held some hope; there was still an iota of redemption left in him, and he did not want to lose it. On the other side, Mundus stared through Sparda intently, scrutinizing his every move for some weakness to exploit. He knew that this was it, the last stand. Whatever happened after this would echo throughout eternity.

And so the end began. With both demons at their maximum level of power, they charged. Like nothing ever seen before, they shot toward each other on a collision course of mutually assured destruction. Trails of red and black flames lagged behind Sparda and orange and blue flames behind Mundus. The moment was finally here; the fate of both these Devils was about to be sealed.

Sparda flew toward Mundus with both arms held back, his sword in his right hand. Mundus flew with one hand cocked back in a fist. Then suddenly, something astonishing happened. Before they collided, Sparda began to undergo another transformation. It seemed that he had been holding this attack back for the entire battle as a last resort. As his wings grew larger, his legs merged together and extended, forming a long flaming tail. Then his face began to change and extend outward and as his horns slid back, elongating his head. He had transformed into an incredible flaming Great Red Dragon[11] and was about to send himself directly into Mundus.

Mundus did not have time to slow down; it was too late, he had lost the duel. In a vibrant crimson flash, Sparda sent himself through the very heart of Mundus, leaving a molten hole in his chest. It was Mundus' only weak point and Sparda had exploited it perfectly. The Dark Emperor fell to the ground, completely stunned as his fresh, yet ancient wound, refused to heal even in his glorified form. He struggled to get to his feet, digging his fingers into the crumbling ground. "Ugh!"

Mundus glanced up to see Sparda, back in his normal state, looking down at him from above. Mundus panted and retched, attempting to hide his pain and anguish. All of Hell continued to groan as the portal to the human world continued to seal itself off. The sounds of the battle still echoed off the unbounded walls of Hell like a solemn incantation rousing ancient Beings and invoking events long since past.[12] And then there was silence, utter and complete silence.

Sparda alighted before Mundus as he scrambled to his feet. And as Sparda expected, Mundus continued his arrogance, "So it seems you have...defeated me, how…strange. But you have not won, Sparda; there is more to battle than simply defeating your opponent, you must ensure that they will never again be able to rise up against you. Allow me to share with you one thing I have learned over the ages: There are fates much worse than death!"

Suddenly, Mundus raised both of his hands and began moving them in an almost ceremonial way.[13] And without warning, something began to form above Sparda, a triangular gate, a portal of some kind with odd symbols on each vertex. This was _Mundus'_ trump card. A surging wind began to burst from the gate with incredible intensity and began to suck everything into it. But Sparda did not make a move, and he was unmoved by Mundus' ploy. He seemed oblivious to what was occurring, apathetic to Mundus' desperate last show of power.

"Hahaha! Let us see how your power serves you when you are locked in a dimensional vault for all eternity! Even the most powerful Devil Lords are have no hope of escape!"

Then, Mundus spread his wings, creating a blinding light once more. And Sparda could feel his body being pushed into the gate, but again, he was unperturbed because he knew that, no matter what happened, the human world would be safe. And as the light dimmed and the wind stopped, an incredible incident occurred.

Mundus looked to Sparda with a smile, "Ah, naïve Sparda, you will never learn. In that empty dimension you will fester and decay and you will rue the day that the you rose to challenge the Darkness Mundus!" And with that, Mundus clenched his fist and the portal began to close. But Sparda remained calm, as if he was privy to knowledge that Mundus was not. This puzzled him, but defiant to the end, Mundus would not reveal his weakness.

"Farewell, young Sparda!"

And then it dawned on Mundus. He looked to Sparda, wondering why he was not struggling to get free and suddenly his mind flashed back to what just occurred. In the midst of his blinding light, Mundus had attempted to shove Sparda into the portal. However, just before he could, Sparda teleported away, causing _him_ to fly into range of the portal. In an unfathomable sequence of events, they had traded places.[14] In his arrogance, Mundus had not noticed his misstep, which only made his taunts more foolish in retrospect.

The realization changed the entire expression of Mundus' demeanor. It shifted pathetically from one of certain victory to one of utter dread.[15] He looked up to Sparda to see him grinning the most arrogant, cocky, and prideful grin he had ever seen. As the portal began to close, Mundus' wings snapped and he barreled toward Sparda, attempting to get out before it was too late.

But Sparda would have none of it. "It will be _you_ who are locked away for an eternity. You are fortunate that I have not given into the darkness within completely, else you would not even have the luxury of everlasting rest; be grateful that the prison of your own making hase also shieled you from my wrath forevermore. I once helped you send one ruler of Hell to eternal exile. Fitting that you will share the same fate." And with those words, Sparda charged up an energy blast with both hands and sent it directly at Mundus, hitting him square in his fresh wound, sending him further back into the portal. "**The King is dead. Long live the King…**"

"NO! SPARDAAAAAA!" The sound of the portal closing was like that of a massive vault slamming shut, a self-wrought black iron prison for the former ruler of Hell. Mundus' cries could be heard even after the vault had closed and faded away. This time, Sparda had truly done the impossible. He had finally defeated the Dark Emperor Mundus. And without their ruler, the Darkness slowly began to lose its power.

.

Hell was gradually becoming very unstable as Sparda flew over its ruins, shifting precariously between solid rubble and a blurred phantasms. He did not know what to do with himself. He had finally accomplished what he was destined for, yet he still felt an extreme sense of self-loathing and emptiness. He despised himself so much so that part of him wished he and Mundus had sent one another into oblivion. He had just defeated the ruler of Hell and all he could think about was why he did not deserve to be alive.

Lost in thought, he came upon a violet area of Hell with black pillars that he had never seen before, a place strangely untouched by the battle.[16] He landed atop one of the pillars and continued to contemplate his own fate. _I let it overcome me. I could not, would not suppress my power; my righteousness alone was not enough to defeat Mundus. Perhaps he spoke the truth, perhaps I am simply an anomaly, a mistake…I gave in to the darkness. I….I….killed her….._ Pain and anguish flowed through Sparda's body. _I am not worthy of living…This whole time I have fought the darkness without….and yet….the ultimate darkness resides within myself…_

And in the reflection of the blade, Sparda saw himself, the face of a devil. With Mundus defeated and the portal to the human world closing Sparda was ready to end it right now, to take his own life, if his blade would allow it. He now feared his own power and was rotted with the evil festering inside him like a cancer. He sat there for what seemed like hours, with time passing slower and faster at different intervals, not even noticing that the rumblings of Hell had disappeared. Among the darkness and brooding, he had almost made up his mind to end his life, but then a ray of hope appeared and illuminated his mind. _No…this cannot be the way…no demon would even consider such a thing[17]….I will not give up…I will fight it. No matter how much it pains me, I will go on….I will continue the unending fight against evil….and though victory may be impossible for me, a demon forever bound to the darkness…I will show them that the light will not be overcome by the primordial darkness._ His thoughts were set on the human world. He had done it. He had written his own fate. He would not die this night. Destiny would not have it.

Sparda looked to his sword, the organic blade bearing his own name. He had grown up with this blade, his only constant possession, borne from his very body; it had been with him through every battle, tasted the blood of countless beings, human and demon alike. It was an extension of himself--some might say it was the other way around--and a permanent testament to his demonic stature. Then suddenly the blade began glowing as the red flames surrounding it trailed off in the wind. In a flash of light the blade had transformed into something else, another blade, appearing like something a human would wield. The hilt had remained the same but the blade itself no longer was covered with organic material; it was now symmetric and more triangular like a broad sword, and gleamed with the dull luster of brushed metal. Puzzled at first, Sparda remembered that he had imbued the power of the blade into Anna's amulet. The battle with Mundus had expended Sparda's latent energy, and with the change in his soul, the sword had responded in kind, unable to maintain its imposing form any longer with no darkness to feed it. _So this shall be my only remaining legacy...a feeble blade amidst the forgotten ruins of a chaotic realm...an epitaph for the nameless traitor whose death was ensured on the day that he awoke to justice... _

And with that thought Sparda planted his blade into the black rock of the stone pillar. _I will no longer need this, and so its dark power will remain locked away here for all eternity. I make this solemn oath before my blade: Should I ever give in to its fell influence again, falling to the Darkness to accomplish what the Light cannot, on that day my life will ended by my own hand, lest the two worlds perish. So shall it be._ And so he lifted himself up into the air and turned toward the closing portal of the human world. As he flew, the same thought ran though his mind over and over, just as it had before. _Anna….  
_

* * *

.

[1] This "chapter" (the folios are not divided into chapters, but these divisions were made by the earliest redactors) is peculiar in that there are several different versions of the original manuscript, each with a lengthy list of errata and what appear to be corrections and word substitutions by the original author, "Didymus." As such, this chapter has the most various translations and controversial interpretations and is subject to frequent debate in academic circles presently. The prevaling theory, one which this editor has put forward, is that due to the ineffable nature of the content of this chapter, the sheer alienness to anything experienced by humans at the time of its writing, or indeed, any time, that the author "Didymus" struggled to put these events into words.

At times, it seems as if "Didymus" is grasping for words, or even creating idiosyncratic phrasings to convey some heretofore novel occurrences. These phrasings have been updated with what we believe to be their equivalents in modern language in this chapter. It may have been that the words did not exist at the time, or more likely, that he felt that words would never be able to capture the _numen_ of this "metaphysical Armageddon" within the myth. Whatever the actual case, such discrepancies have fueled the debate on both side of the "visionary" hypothesis, with some arguing that such inconsistencies prove the lucid contrivance of the text, and others arguing that it only speaks to the transcendence of Didymus' visions. ~Ed.

[2, 4] The uncharacteristic use of hand-to-hand combat may be used here to emphasize the feral or animalistic state which Sparda's rage and Mundus' enmity has triggered within each, analogous to the _berserkrs_ of ancient times. ~Ed.

[3] The conflation of Mundus with the Judeo-Christian God is made very apparent here. ~Ed.

[5, 7, 9, 13] My colleagues have indicated that these passages show a clear influence from the North Indian Tantra schools. This is in addition to the Qin Daoist metaphysical concepts of _qi_ and _samadhi_ co-opted for descriptions of "Sparda's" awakened state. The Tantrik influence here is exemplified in Mundus' use of _mudras_, body and hand gestures with occult significance, for the channeling of _kundalini_ energy to various _cakras, _and the _bijas_, seed syllables of mystical power, emblazoned upon his orbs. It is a strange and eclectic combination of motifs for this character that make him so central to determining the provenance and cultural milieu of the text. ~Ed. with thanks to the Work of the Chariot trust (workofthechariot,com/TextFiles/Back-Tantra,html {change commas to periods})

[6] Some may find it surprising that "Sparda" is not the true name of the demon who has been referred to as such throughout the text, but this is more of a issue of religious hermeneutics than a literary one. What is being intimated here is a notion shared by the many ancient cultures, that the true name of any being is what constitutes its essence and potency, with the given name being little more than an arbitrary label. This true name must remain secret lest it grant power over a god or demon, as seen in the myths of the Kemetians. By most accounts, the true name is not what we would conventionally recognize as language, and thus it is unable to be divulged in writing, used as a label or, due to the limitations of reality, uttered at all. Compare with the Qabalistic use of the Tetragrammaton, the Tantrik notion of _bijas_ and the "garland of letters," which are the seeds of reality and the godhead itself, as well as the aniconic use of _bonji _runes within the _mandalas_ of Esoteric Shingon and Zurvanite sects to describe the structure of all existence. ~Ed. with thanks to the Work of the Chariot trust.

[8] Included in the original manuscript here are disjointed scribblings, semi-poetic in nature, which mean to convey something along the lines that: "The Emperor [and the] Underworld are One. [...] cannot exist save by [the grace? chrism?] of the Darkness; the Darkness cannot be freed [without Their] King. He will bear Their stigmata upon [His brow], and They shall preserve/sustain Him until His appointed time_ (kairos)_ when [...] As long as Hell endures, its King will not fall, until the Darkness [...]" The following section is missing. This is, of course, a reconstruction of what are very vague ramblings of what some have called a madman, but it does seem to imply that "Mundus" cannot be actually _destroyed_ since his existence is connected to the essence of the Underworld itself. This appears to be a proto-psychological mytheme common to the text. ~Ed.

[10] This seems to be a reference to an ancient lunar Goddess whose name and origin is unknown. My colleagues have noted that, given the Tantrik influence and the sanguine characterization of the Moon, this may be a veiled reference to Kali, the wrathful manifestation of the Mother goddess of the Hindus, with the blood symbolizing her perpetual destruction of the world. This editor is apt to agree with this assessment.

Included in the margin of the original manuscript are the syllables BAR-BE-LO or perhaps BA-BA-LON, the meanings of which neither is fully understood. The former term is found in Ophitic tractates such as the "Trimorphic Protennoia," to refer to the supreme feminine power of the universe, and the latter is found in the writing of Crowley, but it is unclear whether the usage here is the same. It is necessary to note further that the same Tau-serpent symbol is found in the margin, indicating the significance of these terms to the Zurvanites with which Didymus is believed to have been acquainted. Dr. Ibn-Amir has noted that the Zurvanites describe the origin of flawed and ignorant humanity as the abortus of a wise Mother Goddess. In this light, it seems "blood" of the Moon may be a description of menses, fegured as blood from "a wound that will not heal," i.e. the perpetual blood of Creation. ~Ed. with thanks to Dr. Musa Ibn-Amir

[11] From the Vatican copy: "And there appeared another wonder in heaven; and behold a great red dragon, having seven heads and ten horns, and seven crowns upon his heads." Rev. 12:3 ~Ed.

[12] Although this editor was initially of the opinion that this represented the vestiges of the mythology of a primitive religion, my esteemed colleague Dr. Ibn-Amir has assured me that this cryptic line is consonant with the esoteric knowledge of the Zurvanite sect, specifically concerning the Dead or Dreaming God, known as Abraxas, and His Logos, Zurvan Akarana. Although their origin is unknown, both of these deities are accorded the supreme Archetypal significance within the sect, which can be surmised from the golden statues of Zurvan as Lord of Time left at occult sites throughout the world. As this esoteric knowledge is revealed only to the highest initiates of the sect, and because the sect is not this editor's area of expertise, those interested should anticipate the commentary by Dr. Ibn-Amir, which is forthcoming. ~Ed. with thanks to Dr. Musa Ibn-Amir

[14] This is presumably meant to convey that Sparda had used the displacement technique that Mundus had used in the previous "chapter," again emphasizing his ability to quickly adapt and assimilate any combat technique that he sees. ~Ed.

[15] The Vatican copy includes a scriptural reference here, apparently as a condemnation of the character Mundus for attempting to emulate their God: "Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall." Proverbs 16:18. ~Ed.

[16] It is generally agreed upon in the scholarly discussion, that this area is meant to represent a projection of manifestation of one of the facets of "Sparda's" mind onto the "real" world of Hell. This concept of external transference speaks to the primitive proto-psychological leanings of Zurvanite beliefs and the significance they placed on key characters and locations within texts such as these. ~Ed. with thanks to Dr. Musa Ibn-Amir

[17] He is referring to the warrior ethos, or perhaps strong instinctual imperative, that demons traditionally live by, which it is implied would prevent them from even contemplating suicide. It appears that "Didymus" means to convey that Sparda's newfound freedom gained from the awakening event includes the capability to do harm as well as good. This may be an injunction against the democratic movements starting up at the time, which many philosophers found repugnant. ~Ed.


	28. Final Chapter: A Devil's Cry

**Final Chapter** _A Devil's Cry_

_The Rebellion is over..._

The thought echoed in Sparda's mind as he emerged from the gate into the human world. The events that had transpired in the past few hours flashed before his eyes over and over. Even though he had just completed what he had accepted as his destiny, his heart remained heavy.

As he descended upon the Temen-Ni-Gru, he noticed that the entire tower had been shifting and did not pause for his arrival. Then he saw her; Anna's pale body became more and more apparent as he neared the apex of the tower. His wings snapped and he began the glide downward. The carved stonework of the Temen-Ni-Gru, daubed with the placid blood of Anna and himself, clicked underneath his cloven hooves as he gaze turned upward. As the citrine beam emanating from the Tower slowly shrank in circumference, clouds took their normal shapes and paths, no longer swirling around the gate. The normal patterns of weather were absolutely foreign to Sparda. As the beam finally dissipated, the sound of the gate closing, like a large vault being locked, boomed through the sky.

The darkness of Hell had been overcome, and for the first time in years, the stars could be seen peeking through the clouds of the night sky. The tension of humanity was finally resolved as the world breathed a collective sigh of relief. Humans began to emerge from the shadows, easing themselves back into reality, into a sense of comfort not experienced for years, and for some, never felt at all. Hatches opened and people emerged from their huts. Children looked up at the sky, mystified at the beauty of nature finally free of demonic influence.

The unmarred beauty of the human world overwhelmed Sparda; he had never seen the human world untainted by the devils' touch. The stars, nothing more than feeble pin-pricks in the black cloth of the night, almost blinded the vision of the devil's eyes. The pale light of the full moon caressing him was a scorching zephyr across his demonic skin. He felt drawn towards the Moon's soft visage, filled with a primal longing that he had never experienced, but he simply could not sustain the vision; the beatific glow of her milky blush was an empyreal womb of a thousand suns to Sparda's eyes.[1] He turned his head away from the sky, only to have his sight set on Anna. Instantly, he felt weak and sick. He struggled to move legs, arms, turn his head, anything. His nerves and senses were numbed. His lips curled inward and his eyes closed, but he did not know why.

His left leg finally shuffled forward. His body felt heavy against itself. His head dropped to face the blood-soaked stone latticework. Slowly, he moved himself toward her body. The process of moving one leg forward and having enough energy to move the other leg ahead of the first, and to repeat the process almost robbed Sparda of all his strength. Each step closer to her body, crumpled over like a rag-doll, grew harder as they weight of Sparda's sins bore down upon him; he knew that he had killed her and that he would never be forgiven, not by others and not by himself.

The last step towards her was the hardest. His cloven feet fell into place, engraving the stone floor, and the rest of his body followed. He fell to his knees, shins bent under his body, arms limp at his sides. When he touched the ground, the whole of the Tower began to shake slightly, barely a shiver, as if to bear witness to his repentance.[2] He looked at the corner of the Tower, and saw, against the backdrop of the villages beneath him, that the Tower was beginning to burrow back into the ground, rotating to his right, piercing the navel of Earth. [3]

The clouds closed, forming a dark blanket over the land and it began to rain, slowly at first, but then in a steady drizzle. Sparda struggled against himself to move his arms, finally lifting his hand to move Anna's hair from her face. Her skin still felt warm, and at first it startled Sparda, causing him to draw his hand back. He regained his composure, and let himself slide her hair across her forehead. When he saw her face, the full force of remorse hit him.

Some believe that when a person sleeps, you can see their true character. Others say that when a person dies, you cannot tell if it is really them anymore. But Sparda saw her clearly, her purity, her spirit, everything she stood for, everything that had made her who she was. And he knew that she had died not for her ideals, but because of his sins, and he despaired.

The rain hitting her face slid off as fast as it touched her. The rain beating down on Sparda pooled in the ridges of his armor. He rubbed his clawed thumb across her face, running it over her smooth cheeks. He saw some of her own dried blood streaked across her face and wiped it clear. He reached out toward where her pure heart had once been, tightly grasping the amulet which began to glow dimly. It was as if it comforted him, providing a refuge from turbid emotions coursing through him.

That is when he thought his eyes deceived him. _Did her eyes just tremble?_

Anna gasped for air, her first breath of life, as if awaking from a dreamless sleep. _Could she possibly live on?_ he wondered... He looked down at her abdomen. _No, her wound was fatal…but how..._ [4]

She opened her eyes slowly as they were gradually filled with the dim flicker of life, and was barely able to recognize him. "Is it over..." her words trailed off weakly.

"Yes, it is..." His words were laden with shame and sorrow. This was the last time he would ever talk with her and the last time the world would hear her voice.

She tried to say something else, but coughed up a large blood clot. _Probably the only thing that kept her body alive this long,_ Sparda thought. Blood ran from her nose and corners of her mouth. Sparda lifted her close to his chest and ran his right hand over her face, wiping the blood off.

The Tower still shook ever so slightly and rotated, slowly sinking into the ground. Sparda stared deep into her eyes, as if searching for some lingering glimmer of hope or forgiveness that would make everything right again, but alas, he would fine nothing. He did not know what to say or do. There were no words in the world, no delicate verse of the poets in this life or gone beyond, that were worthy of the fragile sublimity of that moment; She was dying, and there was nothing he could do, nothing anyone could do. He had conquered countless millions in Hell and the Darkness within himself but he could not conquer death, no one could.

"Strange..." Anna muttered. Her soft voice, in such a hushed tone, still captured Sparda's awareness. She lifted her hand and ran it over Sparda's gruesome face. "Death comes for us all, but never at the time we expect Him..." She took so long to say the sentence, using so much energy to talk, that it drained her of life faster with each word.

"Humans can be so evil...so evil that none would have thought this would happen...so consumed with..." her sentence was cut off by another clot of blood in her throat, choking her, robbing her each precious second of her remaining life.

"You must not talk." Sparda tried to keep her alive as long as he could, hoping beyond hope that someone on the ground could help her.

The people gathering below watched as the Temen-Ni-Gru, the Tower of the Devil, the doorway to the gate to Hell, the very structure that made so many cry in fear, sank slowly into the ground. Large pieces of the chiseled stone that created its architecture cracked and crumbled, falling to the ground, revealing the huge gears inside. It glowed an evil red, slowly dimming to a yellow, and then finally disappeared beneath the stone again as it caved in on itself.

Anna coughed up more blood. Her skin turned paler as she continued to bleed out. Sparda stiffly held her close, letting her head lean against his rigid chestplate. She lifted her head, resting her chin on his shoulder. Sparda peered outward and saw that they were drawing closer to her world, to her people. He hoped that someone on the ground could heal her, though he knew that it was a false hope.

It still rained. Even on such a meek night, Anna thought the sky and the world were dazzling in their beauty. She giggled hoarsely, "I've...I've never seen the world this way. Ever since I was born, the demons were in my life. Then they were in everyone's lives..." She pushed away from his shoulder, still holding him, and looked in his eyes.

Suddenly, she felt cold, an extreme, burning cold like nothing she had ever felt before. It scared her, jolting her somewhat. Even through her clothes, Sparda could sense the bitter chill of death rush down her body. Panic hit Sparda; again, another new emotion. He did not know what to do with it. Then anger came. Adrenaline pumped madly through his veins. He looked around, all over, hoping that the Tower would sink faster, so that he could get her help, even though he knew it was too late. At least a hundred more feet were left before they were even at a considerable jumping height for her and Sparda was far too weak to use his wings. Sparda had to finally accept the truth: tonight, Anna would die.

A dead calm settled over Anna, a sort of tranquil state of being, accompanied by that ultimate knowledge, that feeling that everything would be alright, that things would work out no matter what. Recognizing her life being subsumed into the eternal ebb and flow of existence that stretched from the lowliest creatures to the highest heavens, Anna dwelt in the unsurpassed wisdom and serenity afforded only by the clarity of death.

"Sparda..." she called his attention.

"Yes..." He noticed something different about his voice, something...

She could no longer hear him. Nothing in her body responded to her mind anymore. No more pain, no emotions, no thoughts, nothing. Her eyes were lifelessly dull, her physical vision clouded by death's miasma, but her blank stare peered beyond Sparda into the ether, captivated by the quicksilver phantasms flitting in and out of the Moon's otherworldly splendor.[5] An empty shell of what she once was, she could not even feel herself speak. She struggled to finish her words. "They...they need someone to help them, a leader. A ray of hope, the light when....when the…darkness surrounds them...Forgive and....watch over them..."

Suddenly, in Sparda's arms, she felt light, too light even for his vast strength. Her eyes stared blindly into the distance and the raspy purr of a death rattle droned from her lips. He reached with his clawed hand, and pulled her eyelids down ever so delicately. His arms and legs trembled. His fingers shuddered wildly. He wished that he could reach into his chest and pull out the hot iron ball stifling him and forcing him deeper into the pit of his despair.

His eyes felt so strange, warm and cold at the same time. The feeling continued to grow, more and more, until he felt like it had reached its limit. But then it burst within him. It covered his face, under and behind his eyes, around his mouth. The nerves in his chin trembled uncontrollably. The pressure in his chest and abdomen was almost unbearable. The whole of his face felt heavy, so heavy he had to struggle to keep his head up.

Then suddenly, a little bit of that feeling was relieved, just enough to keep him from collapsing under his great burden.[6] Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glint of something. _Wait..._he thought, _...that isn't from the sky... _

It looked somehow crystalline, yet still liquid. Something else was in that droplet, something more salt and water; it contained a piece of Sparda's deepest being, a facet of his soul glimmering from within...

It seemed to fall in slow-motion, and he remembered, he had seen that kind of water before, on Anna's face. He remembered Anna's words from long ago...

_"Cry? Why do I cry? It's part of an emotion called pain. It happens when you're hurt..."_

His own words following hers drilled a hole in his mind...

_"Devils never cry..." _

The tear fell as if it weighed a ton. It hit Anna's face, and rolled quickly off of her smooth, round cheek; the face of a child, of absolute purity, taken by the horrible tyranny of Darkness.

_Why do I cry? I am a devil....devils never.... _

His thoughts were frozen and a rush of cold hit him,[7] starting at his thumb where the tear had rolled and touched him. The dark armor on his fingers began to almost unravel, like tattered ribbons, thin purple ribbons of energy, blown in the wind. It traveled down his hand, slowly engulfing the rest of his arm up to the elbow. He managed to see his arm behind the ribbons. It looked the same, but...something about it...something...metallic.

Then without warning, blazing ardor consumed his upper body, sending searing pain through his face and torso. His legs and feet entered the same realm of searing frigidity as his hands had before. He could not see, but he knew they were unraveling in the same shredded purple ribbons as his arms. He glared up into the sky, welcoming to the cold rain, hoping it would cool his face though the droplets merely sizzled and evaporated on contact.

Then, time seemed to stop for him. Everything stopped, no more feelings, thoughts, nothing.[8]

Then, pain...an explosion of the sweltering iciness and loss of breath simultaneously erupted in him. He dropped Anna's body from the shock. He grabbed his face in reflex, but it felt different. His eyes were blinded by light pouring from his body, out of every single pore of his _skin_...

His face now had texture. He tried to cover his eyes with his hands, hoping to block some of the blinding light. His fingers hit something in the way however, something that had not been there before, right in the middle of his face.

A second wave of pain jolted him so hard that he fell back to his knees. A burst of white light engulfed his body, and the purple ribbons grew large and shattered outward, surrounding the apex of the sinking Tower with a mass of energy. He screamed horrifically due to a pain unknown to him, a pain so deep it touched the edges of his soul.[9]

The amulet dropped on Anna's belly. In the red stone shone a reflection of Sparda as he the light began to subside...

.

People watching the event atop the sinking Tower reared back in fear. Some were so close that they felt the wind rush outward and were almost knocked over by it as it passed them.

The flares of purple ribbons captivated the vision of all those present. They all wondered what was happening. No one among them was aware that their leader had died at the hands of the one responsible for such a display.

The Tower was almost completely submerged. People stood on their toes, and children on their parents' shoulders, hoping to catch a glimpse of the scene.

Sparda finally uncurled and stood erect. He felt different, both lighter more sluggish at the same time, almost as if his skin was now gelatinous. Trees could be seen creeping over the edge of the Tower. He leaned down and picked up Anna's body one last time. He did not notice that his armored scales had now become full metal armor, the kind a human could conceivably forge, but still too majestic and ornate for the skill of any metallurgist. Indeed, he did not notice his skin, his now human skin, rubbing against the chain mail.

The face plates on his helmet clanked as he stepped simply off the apex onto solid ground. His gaze was fixed on Anna's body, her arms hanging limp. His vision was unchanged in that his eyes still dimly glowed in flaming red.

He looked up and saw an amazing sight obscured slightly the horns adorning his new metallic helmet; hundreds of people, all staring at him with hope and expectation in their eyes. He quickly rebuked himself inwardly and hung his head low. In his mind, he was still a demon, and he feared the backlash of the humans against his unarmed, weak being. Wind whipped at his back, and as he turned, he saw a cape where his wings used to be. He examined the rest of his body and finally saw that it was not as it had once been, mere minutes before….

He knelt before the crowd, and gently laid out Anna's body, crossing her arms over her chest. He looked at her again, lingering over her closed eyes. He reached out to touch her, and finally saw his hand covered by a metal glove clicking together at the joints of the fingers.

He clasped his hands together, crossing his fingers over one another, and applied pressure with one hand to slide the other back. Then the realization dawned on him. He was shocked to see a human hand with five fingers and dirt crammed under the nails. With his freed hand, he pulled the other gauntlet off to find the same thing: five fingers, human skin…

In utter disbelief, he reached across his chest to his shoulder, frantically pulling the armor off his torso. The dark violet cape fell behind him. The beautifully polished metallic armor dropped into his lap, and he quickly tossed it aside.

The crowd watched, wondering who this man was; they looked on to see him reach up to his chin, undo a fastener on his helmet, and raise it by the horns. Sparda was caught off-guard by what fell from his helmet: hair….as pale as the Moon herself.[10]

A man from the crowd grew anxious and approached the stranger.

"Excuse me, sire..."

Sparda's head snapped up with the speed of a demon, and his eyes glared at the man intently. However, his view was obstructed by the hair that reached cheek level and rested on his shoulders and down his back. Wind swept the hair this way and that. The feeling of the hair grazing against Sparda's face agitated him, sending a new feeling through his recently tuned nerves.

The man continued, "Begging your pardon, sire, but who are you?" his question wasn't marked by anger, but by confusion and awe.

"I am..." Sparda's voice surprised him. No longer was it gruff and tinged with sinister, brooding undertones. The words flowed out of his mouth rhythmically and elegantly. His voice was still deep, but not unnaturally so for a human.

"I _was_…her friend..."

The tears began to fill his eyes again. He reached up and placed his fingers over his eyes, finding the new skin to be strangely absorbent. He pulled his hands away and the tears continued to form. A single drop slid down his cheek, and wrapped around to his mouth. The pungent, salty taste of it shocked Sparda slightly, but hardly enough for others to notice.

The wind whipped up again. Goosebumps formed over Sparda's back and chest as the wind hit him. His hair was whisked about, swerving back and forth. As he came to his feet, he reached up and placed a hand on his face, feeling his nose. As his hand grazed his eyes, the pain from before filled them, but only for a split second. He then ran his hand upwards over his face and through his hair soaked with sweat. It slid back easily, and lay slick against his head.

As his hand fell back to his side, he saw things differently; now, even more colors, more than he had ever seen as a demon, were present. The crowd was taken aback by the deep, vibrant blue color of his eyes.

Another person, a woman, stepped forward. With a look of incredulity, she held her arm out, motioning to his side. "You...fought them, with no weapon? All of them?"

Sparda remembered his sword, that he had thrusted it deep into the black stone in that strange, violet dimension, leaving his power behind in the Underworld...

"I _had_ a sword...it is in their world now."

Whispers among the crowd ran rampant, whispers that echoed throughout history.

_He must've been trained since birth..._

_...the greatest the world has ever seen..._

_…the Savior of the human world… shining knight among the darkness…_

_He will become a legend among our people..._

"What is your name, lord?" a voice called out.

"My name…is unimportant. I am no longer worthy of it."[11]

"But what shall we call you? You defended our world, we could not speak of you in vanity. Please, we must know; for the sake of our children and our children's children, tell us."

Sparda raised his head and spoke his name quietly. He saw a man run from the crowd back to the village...

"You protected us, you saved us…" another voice said. Sparda stood still as the crowd gathered around him. Everyone rushed to place their hands on him. The feeling caused Sparda's skin to tremble.

One person picked up his dark violet cape and draped it over his shoulders. Two men carried Anna's body away, although Sparda quickly grabbed for her amulet. But before he could, it was taken by a hand and placed over his head.

"The Dark Knight, Sparda..." a voice called. The crowd affirmed the new title with whispers and nods.

Sparda recognized one man moving though the crowd, from many nights long since past; he was the one who made weapons for Anna, the alchemist. He held a large box in his hands and presented it to Sparda.

"I made these for her, to fight them. I think she would have wanted you to have them..." He opened the box and presented the contents to Sparda.

Sparda extended his hand and held one of the twin gifts. Ivan tapped the other with his finger, wearing an oddly inappropriate grin on his face, given the sombre occasion. "They will never need to be reloaded, you know..."

Sparda examined them again, and christened them aloud, "Luce and Ombra..."

Looking at the archaic twin pistols, he remembered Anna's last words...

_Watch over them..._

Sparda held his head high and a solemn, human smile stretched across his face:

"I will, Anna, I will..."

* * *

.

[1, 5, 10] Here we see reference again to the Moon/Mother Goddess, albeit in what appears to be her benevolent, nurturing aspect. Her traditional relation the soul, subtle energies, and death are preserved here. Further investigation is necessary to be certain of the significance and origin of this enigmatic Goddess, and explain her presence within a predominantly male-driven narrative. One thing that can be assumed is that she, along with "Anna" and "Marlene" represents precisely the counter-balance to the dark, cthonic principle represented by the masculine and the demonic. This is a classic example of Archetypal _enantiodromia,_ according to Dr. Musa Ibn-Amir. ~Ed. with thanks, as always, to my friend and colleague Musa Ibn-Amir.

[2] My colleagues once again see here a parallelism to the life of the Budha, Siddartha Gautama. Upon attaining his awakening, the Budha was assailed by the forces of darkness in the guise of Mara. When Mara challenges the Budha's right to awaken and escape his subjugation, the Budha reaches down fro his seated position and touches the Earth/Gaia, who rumbles and testifies to his great deeds. This gesture is called the _bhumisparsha mudra_. ~Ed. with thanks to Eastern Religion Department.

[3] The Tower here is framed as a type of _axis mundi_, connecting the two worlds, not unlike the Mesopotamian _E-temen-anki_. It is implied furthermore that the Tower was built upon the center of the Earth, the _omphalos_ or navel, as is a common claim for sacred sites, such as the Oracle at Delphi. ~Ed.

[4] The original manuscript includes the same ambiguous language here as in the "chapter" before last. It mentions again the "amulet's soul" and the fact that it "breathed for her." The implication here seems to be that the power of the amulet somehow preserved her soul for a short time. Many mystical sects believe that, upon death, the soul of the deceased leaves the body and remains near it for a short time following whereupon it begins to disintegrate, taking a maximum of 40 days to transmigrate the hollow worlds of death completely. It appears that the amulet may have acted as an anchor for the soul to remain in a coherent state for a short time, either within the amulet itself or in the supraphysical energy centers of the body. As the soul and _qi_ are understood as the subtle breath of the supraphysical bodies, it is understandable that "Anna's" soul is allowed to re-inspirate her body for a short time, in the manner of an infant's "first breath of life." Despite this textual rationalization, it does strike one somewhat as a _deus ex machina_. ~Ed. with thanks to Dr. Musa Ibn-Amir

[6] One may recall the verse of Romans 8:22 to see the philosophical undertones at work here: "For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now." This "great burden" is not unique to Sparda or any group or individual, but is the nature of the fallen state of the world. Thus, to cry is to see clearly, and to lament in faith at the world of shells in which we must groan and travail unto death. ~Ed. with reference to Vatican commentary

[7, 8] This appears to be the description of a spontaneous _samadhi_ state, one which obviously affects the physical body. This is a common theme, and indeed, a goal for the Qin Daoist alchemists, the transformation of the body into an incorruptible body through transmuting the subtle energies of the body. What Daoist mystics take decades, or even centuries, to achieve, however, is achieved by Sparda in an instant, which emphasizes his exceptional nature. ~Ed.

[9] There is an aphorism within the tradition of Western alchemy which is along the lines of: "It is in our deepest wounds that we find the hidden gold of the soul." Interested readers are encouraged to seek out the writings of Dennis Hauck and Adam McLean. ~Ed.

[11] Readers will recall the note on the "true name" in the last chapter, and will see that Sparda refusing to speak his name has tremendous symbolic meaning ~Ed.


	29. Epilogue

**Epilogue **

The New World.

The streets are lit by the phosphorescent glow of overhanging street lamps. Tall skyscrapers scratch the clouds of the moonless night. Times have changed. No longer do freshly knit rugs hang over the markets overlooking wooden huts and fire-pits. The dreggy wet ground has been replaced by asphalt streets and cement sidewalks. Shabby huts have been surmounted by multi-story apartment complexes and two-story brownstones. Iron and bronze has given way to stainless steel and titanium. Wood has acquiesced to aluminum and plastics. Hands have been replaced by the cold metallic grip of machines. The forces of nature have been subjugated by the works of man. A world ruled by science….but underneath the shroud of technological artifice still lives a world whose time is long since past, a world forgotten throughout the ages and reduced to myths and fairy tales; a world that still exists in the depths of night, and on the edge between the dark and the light. They, the demons, still lurk in the shadows hoping to satisfy their undying hunger….

Over time, demons have found ways to break free but few had ever returned to tell tales of the human world. Of those that did escape, none ever dared to return. On this cold night, one of these demons, a Vanguard of the Hell clan, has broken free of the gate and found its way into an alleyway between two ominous buildings.

It peers around a corner and sees the Human World, completely different from stories it has heard of how their world had been in ancient times. It is so different from the world described during the Rebellion, the world that the _Traitor_ had attempted to save. The new technological advances almost scare it. _How are they this smart?_ it thinks.

Then suddenly, twin .45 caliber hollow-tipped bullets tear through the demon's knees, sending it crashing to the ground. In the shadow of the alley, it sees a figure approaching, a human, a man.

It screams and grunts as the man shoves the hot-tipped barrel of one of his pistols directly into the demon's chest, causing its flesh to sizzle.

The man stands up tall, and looks the demon in the eyes without so much as flinching. He is fearless.

"Who….who are you?" The demon squeals gratingly.

"I am the Light that is borne in the Darkness, I am the true bane of evil and all those that worship it, I am the last hope in the face of despair, and even devils will cry before they taste my blade…"

The twin .45 barrels, one as dark as the Shadow of dusk, one gleaming with the chrome Light of the moon, smoke as the man holsters them on his back underneath his purple velvet coat. At his left, a thin oriental sword is looped to his leather belt. On his back, a huge broad sword accented with a skull and crossed bones at the hilt looms over his right shoulder. The white slicked back hair, the purple battle-worn clothes, and the glint of the blood red amulet hanging from his neck...

The man pulls the katana from its sheath with his left hand, holding it high over his head. At the same time, he brings the broadsword from his side and upwards, sending the Vanguard skyward. As the demon flies upward, the man brings the katana down with precision, splitting the demon in two. In continuance with this move, he re-sheathes the broad sword on his back, and twirls the katana around his fingers, quickly sliding it back into its scabbard.

The demon lies on the cold concrete of the alley, dying slowly. "How? You are just a human…." The man allows the demon to speak as he stares him dead in his eyes. "Wait….no….it cannot be…" The demon seems to come to an awful realization in an instant. "No! It cannot be you! You died! The Master killed you!" The demon has heard about this being for a thousand years, but he had been told that Mundus had killed him in his final moments in the Human World… "Those eyes….you are _him_…..you are…!"

The man does not hesitate with his next move; he quickly pulls out the twin pistols and aims them at the demon's carcass. "You got that right." Its body is riddled with bullets until all that is left are its ashes. As he turns around, the man flicks two coins towards the demon's remains. "For the boatman. Let him know that more business is on its way."

The man places his smoking guns back under his coat and puts his hands in his pockets. He steps out from the alley, and walks down the street. As he passes under a street lamp, the light drapes over his human appearance, but casts a dark shadow of his true demonic form, which follows him until he fades under the frail gaze of the solemn stars...

* * *

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**Creator's Note: Well, that is the end of this story. We hoped that you enjoyed reading and could appreciate the story and what we sought to accomplish with this fic. Although this is the end of the story of Sparda's awakening, we do have plans to begin the story of the Tales of his life and death in the subsequent 2000 years following the end of this fic. In the meantime, please check out our semi-canonical Vergil fic currently in progress, "The Hollow Worlds." Other fics on the backburner are a short Dormin backstory, a canonical Vergil fic beginning from the end of DMC1, and at least one novelization of a promising DMC1.5 fangame now stuck in development...hell (haha). I, the Editor, may also post further in-universe commentaries here in the vein of the footnotes, if there is interest, so stay tuned.**

**We would like to thank you for reading and certainly welcome any comments or feedback you have. Feel free to PM us**** about any questions you may have pertaining to any aspect of the fic--story, characters, footnotes, etc. Believe me when I say that we would be more than happy to reply. If you liked the fic, let other fanboys and fangirls know about it; our advertising department is non-existent. And don't worry, we don't get any compensation for this other than the satisfaction of revivifying the fanbase one reader at a time.  
**

**Until next time...Be good, and good night,**

_**Moses, L'Éditeur Gris + Manny, Auteur Extraodinaire**_**  
**


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